


Choose Your Last Words Part 1

by ElizabethWilde, VicStone



Series: Choose Your Last Words [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anonymous Sex, Barebacking, Bisexual Clint Barton, Bisexual Logan, Bisexual Phil Coulson, Bisexual Scott Summers, Bisexual Tony Stark, Canon-Typical Violence, Casual Sex, Dirty Talk, Drinking, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Gangbang, Gay Bar, Human Trafficking, Hurt/Comfort, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mind Control, Multi, Name-Calling, Oral Sex, Pansexual Natasha Romanov, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, SHIELD Husbands, Slow Burn, SteveTony, Stony - Freeform, Super Husbands, Superhusbands, Team Bonding, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Voyeurism, clintcoulson - Freeform, pansexual Steve Rogers, phlint - Freeform, shieldhusbands, slow burn phlint, stevextony - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-19 23:34:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 159,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14883380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizabethWilde/pseuds/ElizabethWilde, https://archiveofourown.org/users/VicStone/pseuds/VicStone
Summary: The Avengers decide to recruit some new blood. Loki decides their lives have been too easy. He has ways to take care of that. In the meantime, the team finds lust, love, and everything in between. Things are going to get weird.Warnings and pairings will be listed at the top of the chapters so readers can dive in or avoid certain things as they desire and will also be updated in the tags as new chapters are added. Mostly canon compliant through X2 and Avengers. While there will be many pairings throughout the full span of the fic (quite a few rather brief), the primary pairings overall are Tony/Steve, Logan/Scott, and Clint/Phil.





	1. Introduction

Humans were really quite easy. He felt foolish for overestimating them so thoroughly the first time around. All out war was well and good for fools like his brother, but Loki had more refined means of getting beneath the skin of his enemies. He chuckled to himself. If he had only taken a few simple steps, he could have avoided a great deal of time under Thor's thumb and the embarrassment of that first defeat. Well, the Chitauri's defeat, really. 

Soon enough the Avengers would be no more of a threat than any other humans, fancy toys or no. Toys could only take a man so far. Heart, it seemed, was their true strength. Loki intended to tear their hearts to shreds and leave their minds bleeding. Then he would step in and see that the planet full of mewling monkeys finally had a leader worth following.


	2. Recruitment Drive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot only, no adult content except Tony drinking. A lot.

Tony Stark dragged another handful of files from his rollout laptop to the floating monitors posted around the airship's lab. Screams, angry growls, and firearm blasts from five different videos of varying quality and clarity blared from the room's surround sound, and Tony winced internally as he beheld the mess the subject of the films was capable of creating. "Fury's been eating paint chips. Banner's enough of a handful." He glanced up as Steve walked through the door. "Oh, good. Then they told you we've got a new project, Cap?" He flipped one of the screens around so that Steve could see it and hit the slow button.

The figure on the screen, backlit by gunfire and flames, wasn't easy to see, his face almost obscured aside from the glint of barely-controlled rage in his eyes. "Logan, a.k.a. 'the Wolverine', a.k.a. 'Weapon X'... and about a half dozen other aliases. What we don't have is a clear picture of him," Tony explained as the recording showed Logan springing back into action wielding deadly blades. "SHIELD's been keeping tabs on him. Apparently aside from being the world's only walking Cuisinart, he's also pretty hard to kill. Annnd..." A gesture, and another screen popped up Loki's all-too-familiar casefile. "Nick-o thinks Thor's kid brother'll drop in again soon, and that the veg-o-matic there might be handy to have around. Trouble is, the government headshrinkers think he might be... uh... difficult to recruit." Tony picked up his half-empty glass of Scotch, "He *might* actually have a bigger problem with authority than I do," and took a drink.

Steve arched an eyebrow. That was either a recipe for disaster or an outright lie. He found it difficult to picture someone who could be as offended by the idea of being controlled as Tony Stark. It was nothing short of a miracle that he managed to keep in line as often as he did. "And Director Fury actually read his file?" Steve asked with obvious skepticism. Of course he had. The man had summoned Steve down himself - well, via Agent Hill, but it still counted - and the blond sighed. "Alright, it looks like we have a plane to catch. If Fury wants him in spite of all this, he has to be something pretty special. He couldn't help wondering why Fury wasn't sending Natasha. The redhead could talk most men into doing anything she wanted. //He really must be a tough sell.//

Tony nodded. "Yeah. They've already got my suit loaded up. They want us to go out in civvies though, only resort to 'avenging' if he gets angry." He adjusted the alignment bracelets around his wrists for the Mark VII suit, then paused and looked at a grainy, blurry film of Logan springing out of some sort of tank of water, shrugging off a bullet wound to the forehead and then proceeding to tear through what looked like some otherwise very competent men like they were children. "Then again, if he gets angry, we may not have time to put our faces on. Guess we better hope he takes peace offerings." Tony scooped up a box of Cuban cigars that he'd dug out of his own stash after reading Logan's file. //Here's hoping he appreciates nice things.// "Let's go."

====================

The nighttime streets of Tokyo were alive and crowded with people, and Tony was beginning to wonder if they'd ever find Logan. "This guy's more paranoid than Hill. How many bars do you think he goes to a week? There're only so many in this city."

As the two Avengers passed another seedy looking dive, an impulse occurred to Tony. Never the sort to ignore these things, he took a sharp turn into the narrow alleyway leading to the door. "Y'know what? I need a drink. You need a drink, Cap?" He didn't bother with waiting on an answer, instead ducking inside. The place was dark, smokey, and smelled pretty strongly of piss. "Looks like a great place for a drink," Tony remarked as half the bar turned to look at the only white men in the place.

"Uh, yeah, looks good," Steve agreed, though in truth it looked more like a great place to get tetanus. He was glad for the serum that would prevent it and hoped Tony's luck held out. He opened his mouth to ask why exactly they were stopping in the dive-iest looking bar he had seen since the war when he followed Tony's eyeline. "Oh." Given the man's file, it struck Tony suddenly as stupid that they had been checking in so much nicer places for the first half of the night. Not wasting any time, Steve approached and took a bar stool a seat over before nodding to the grizzled-looking man nursing a whiskey. "Nice to see somebody from the same side of the globe. I'm Steve, this is Tony."

"I hear the moonshine here's great," Tony remarked, brashly settling into the seat Steve had politely left empty.

Logan turned his head, his teeth clenching on the cigar in his mouth. The pair carried a faint smell of gunpowder and machine grease, reminding him a little too much of other military personnel he'd dealt with. The blonde looked like a poster-boy for Uncle Sam from about seventy years ago, and the other guy looked and smelled like he had too much money and spent too much time in a lab. Neither profile put Logan terribly at ease, especially since they'd somehow found one of his hiding places and made it a point to plop down next to him at the bar.

"Just a coupl'a tourists here to enjoy the sights?" Logan growled as Tony managed to gesture and speak slowly enough to get a drink out of the bartender. The dark-headed one looked familiar. //Some big ticket playboy...// Logan reached for his whiskey and gulped it down before gesturing for another, not bothering to look at his visitors anymore.

"No, not exactly," Tony answered, eyeballing the glass he was handed and then sniffing the contents. "Well, one thing I can say... it contains alcohol." He dragged one of the Cubans out of his pocket and offered it to Logan. "Care to trade in that dollar turdstick you're chewing on?" When the offer was met with a silent glower, Tony lit the cigar for himself and continued. "Anyway, we sort of-loosely-represent SHIELD, and-"

"Go fuck yourself." Logan fixed his attention on the small television on the shelf behind the bar. "Had enough of you government spooks."

Logan raised an eyebrow when Tony turned to his companion to whisper, "Cap, help me out here..." //'Cap'...? No... can't be.//

Steve resisted with an effort the urge to roll his eyes. Tony came onto their prospective new coworker the same way he came onto women, and Logan was definitely in a different class than the girls Tony tended to sucker into bed. "I realize your past experiences with the government might not have all been positive, but that doesn't mean that working with us can't be. SHIELD is a little more... um... avant garde." It was the way Clint liked to put it, anyway, and it sounded as good as anything else. "Director Fury asked us to come and speak with you. We don't do a lot of direct recruiting. Actually, this is the first time since the Avengers initiative went live. That means you're something special, and that's saying something with the roster we've got," Steve added with a bright smile. To say they were a motley crew would have been kind. They were a bizarre collection of freaks and rejects that for reasons Steve would probably never understand were closer than any unit he'd ever been a part of despite spending so much time scattered to the winds between missions.

Logan had to fight to hide a grimace as a memory flashed on the edge of his mind. Stryker, younger than Logan remembered last seeing him flashed before his mind’s eye. //"I'm putting together a special team... with special privileges..."// The mutant shook himself, then stood quickly from the bar. "No more teams. No more government bullshit. If you want someone to make an action figure out of, go find Scott Summers. He's prettier'n me anyway."

Tony was quick to follow, putting a hand out and grabbing Logan's shoulder. "Hey, look--" He didn't really get a good read on what happened next. One minute, he was on his feet, the next he was pressed against a wall, Logan's hand tangled in his shirt, with an uncomfortably close view of some very sharp blades.

"I said 'no', playboy," Logan growled, adamantium claws bare millimeters from Stark's face and blue eyes narrowed. "I remember you, now. 'Iron Man'. Ain't so tough without the armor, huh? I don't want anything to do with your freakshow. I've had enough o' you government stiffs and your agendas. Your little Aryan buddy back there might've gotten along just fine when Uncle Sam signed 'im up for guinea pig duty, but I ain't near as impressed."

Eyes focused on one razor-sharp tines, Tony kept his hands up like he was being held at gunpoint. "I see your points," he said, doing a valiant job of not looking as nervous as he felt. "But we were thinking less in the realm of stabbing kids... or me... in the face, and more along the lines of demi-gods. And I think the Cap can confirm that I've been pretty good at making sure we all know what we're in for. Not big on secrets, great at hacking. It all works out." His eyes drifted to Steve, barely able to see the man behind Logan's hulking form. //Granted, SHIELD's kept me out of their systems for a couple of months now, but Jarvis'll fix that eventually.//

It was both good and unsettling to realize that Logan knew them, at least to a degree. It meant that their reputation was most definitely not on their side or it might have done more to sway Logan's opinion. Steve's first instinct was to put some time into calming the crowd, but they were taking care of that themselves by fleeing the scene entirely, save for those too drunk to really care. Instead of helping the effort, he kept his gaze locked on Logan. "If you want to fight with someone, I think we both know I'm more of a match for you than Tony, but I don't think a fight's going to help any of us. From what I read in your file, you want more out of life than cheap whiskey and cigars... or has Director Fury overestimated you?"

Logan grit his teeth and gave Tony a good shake and a thump against the wall before letting him go and putting away the claws. "Government skullfuckers think they know what I want, huh?" he said, turning to face Steve. He crossed his arms over his chest. "If you people have a 'file' on me, then you know I don't play well with others." Ugly arguments with Scott about whether Bobby and Rogue were old enough to be X-Men had pretty well driven Logan to leave the X-Men along with the residual tension in regard to a certain redhead he’d gotten too fond of.

Having regained as much composure as he ever had, Tony shrugged and moved to stand closer to Steve. "I think we've actually got the copyright on that. At least, I do." He shrugged, grabbing his drink from the bar again. "I mean, what're you going to do here? Chase geishas and fight Yakuza? Wait for your brother to turn up again?"

"I don't have a brother."

Tony opened his mouth to argue, then shut it again. //Oh, right. Amnesia.// "Anyway, you don't seem like the sort of guy to just sit around doing nothing."

Logan glanced between the two of them. He already hated them both. Steve reminded him of Scott's unending douchebaggery, and Stark just seemed too slimy. Still, Stark was right. Sitting around wasn't his style. "Alright. Fine. But I ain't wearin' suspenders," he said, giving Steve a pointed look.

"You can fight in your tighty whities if that's what makes you feel better," Steve answered, too relieved to really care what demands Logan made. As long as what he wanted was legal, he definitely seemed like a guy it was best not to fight with. Deciding it might not be a bad idea to change the subject for a moment while the tension slowly flowed out of the room, Steve nodded toward Logan's drink. "So does it do anything for you?" From what he'd read, Logan's metabolism was on par with his own. There were days when he hated being entirely unable to get drunk, and frankly meeting Logan ranked right up there.

Logan shrugged. "If I drink a whole bottle at once, it lasts a couple seconds," he said, picking up the shot of whiskey. "Otherwise... I dunno. It just... reminds me o' somethin'." Every shot of cheap whiskey seemed to make memories dance at the edge of his mind. Good ones, surprisingly. Camaraderie at a rundown airplane hangar-turned-bar. Going home to someone he loved. Not much more, but it was as much comfort as he got. Logan glanced at Steve. He didn't know much about the guy, aside from the fact that he was America's pet project, and that he looked like a complete anachronism.

Tony settled at the bar and gestured to the bartender, who was cowering behind it still. "Hey, uh... it's okay. Just fill'er up," he said, leaning over and trying to hand his glass to the man. He looked at Logan. "Care for another? Next round's on me."

Logan hesitated, then settled at the bar beside Tony, hoping the guy would talk as little as possible. //Though 'shut up' doesn't seem to be in his vocabulary.// He had to give the guy one thing: most people had a tendency to cry, piss themselves, or beg for mercy-or all three-when Logan threatened them. Stark really hadn't done any of the above. "Yeah. Why not?" He glanced at the barkeep and muttered something to him in Japanese. The man seemed to gather himself and go back to his work with only a small tremor in his hands.

"So, I haveta say, I'm pretty amazed by what you're capable of," Tony started, even as Logan became absorbed with his drink and eyeballing Steve like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. "I mean, my father managed to help figure out how to turn him"-he pointed at Steve-"into a supersoldier, but then you were just born with it. And then Stryk-" Tony stopped mid-sentence when Logan sharply turned to face him, "uh... is probably a subject we could discuss later." Sheepishly, Stark went back to his drink. The look in Logan's eyes had been unsettlingly similar to the one Tony had seen in SHIELD's files, and the mess that had gone with that look wasn't something Tony wanted to witness firsthand.

Logan relaxed as another drink was set before him, then turned his attention back to Steve. "Not drinkin' anything?"

"The only memories I have about drinking... they aren't good ones," Steve answered with a wistful smile. "I usually stick to pop." He knew it was nothing that endeared him to anyone. Once upon a time, abstaining from vices had been a virtue. Now it was looked at as being uptight or dated. Of course, in many ways Steve was both, and he was coming to accept the perception as a daily part of life. The last time he'd even tried drinking was after Bucky died, and that was the last thing he wanted to think about. "Believe me, Tony can put back enough that you won't notice I'm skipping it. He has vices enough to cover most of the team, actually." Bruce was usually the only other member of the Avengers who tended to hold back with him. Steve appreciated it even if the real reason was just Bruce keeping himself in check. "You get used to it."

"I'm not sure I can get used to him sober," Logan muttered, glancing at Stark. "Don't think I wanna see 'im drunk."

"Who says you get a choice?" Tony was already well into another shot.

Logan let out a heavy sigh, then glanced Steve again. "So... 'pop'? You look and act like you're old enough to be his grandpa," he said jerking his head toward Tony. "I get the feelin' there's more to ya than serums and red, white, 'n' blue." It wasn't hard for Logan to notice the carefully-contained sense of loss surrounding the blonde. It mirrored his own, though it seemed to have more focus, more structure. Logan felt like his past was a haze full of uncatchable ghosts. Steve seemed to know exactly which spectres were haunting him. //Wonder which one's easier to live with.//

"And here I thought I looked great for my age," Steve muttered, though he nodded. Maybe knowing who he was and where he came from would make some headway to Logan not looking at him like he was the enemy. "Tony mentioned that his father Howard helped in the creation of the serum that made me look like this, gave me enhanced metabolism and reflexes, all that. What he didn't mention is that Howard did it during World War II. I'd been rejected from service, uh, a few times. I was too small, I had asthma, I was everything nobody wanted in a soldier except that I wanted to be there. I wanted to serve my country. I wanted to do my part. Eventually somebody helped me along on the condition that I help them too. So, yeah, I agreed to be a guinea pig, and I don't regret it. The only problem is I ended the war presumed dead and frozen in a block of ice. I didn't get thawed until last year, so I'm still getting used to things."

Logan's eyebrows raised a little. //Sounds familiar.// Of course, Logan didn't know for sure that he'd volunteered. Stryker had said as much, but the man hadn't exactly grabbed Logan as trustworthy. "Guess I'd call that motivated," he said, gesturing to the bartender again. A few words, and Logan had a beer in front of him, and a Coke bottle covered in Japanese kanji in front of Steve. Logan didn't remember having a cause to speak of until the X-Men-the Professor in particular-had won him over, and that had all gone to hell when he'd realized that Scott's ideals and ethics were entirely too cautious and soft-hearted for him. "So' you’re really glad you did it?"

"Hey, what's done is done, right?" Tony chimed in, grinning a little sloppily.

Logan glanced over at Stark. "Shaddup, son. The grownup's're talkin'."

"Maybe you should slow down just a little, Tony." Restraint wasn't exactly the man's strong suit. Tony did everything in excess, and it worried Steve sometimes. Tony was too much too fast and too loud all the time, and he wouldn't have changed that for anything. Annoying as it could be, it was what made Tony the man he was. Unfortunately sometimes watching him attempt to self destruct could also be terrifying. Turning back to Logan, he offered a shrug. "He's not wrong. It's done. But would I do it all over again? Even knowing I'd end up here with everybody I ever knew dead and gone or in a nursing home somewhere? Yeah. I would. In a heartbeat."

Logan nodded. He wasn't about to tell someone they'd made a wrong choice. A man's decision was his own. "Guess it's easier when you can remember everything that happened beforehand," he muttered, absently rubbing at the skin between his knuckles. He sighed, then looked back at Steve. "So I guess you're almost in the same shoes as me."

"Except that whole brother thing. He's definitely not dead." Tony gestured for another drink.

Logan snapped at the bartender in Japanese, and the man hurriedly moved away. "You've had enough, Stark. Enjoy some water," he said as the prescribed solution was put in front of Tony. "If I had a brother, he'd've come lookin' for me by now, don'tcha think?" When Tony grinned, shook his head and opened his mouth to answer, Logan held up a hand to silence him. "You're gonna piss me off if you keep talkin', and I'd hate to have to force-feed you a knuckle sandwich in front o' all these nice folks in here."

"Hey, okay. Fine. But when you're ready to quit playing Mad Libs with your memories, just come ask. I know a guy." He looked at his water glass, then grudgingly picked it up. "So, if I finish my veggies, can I have more cake?"

Logan had to fight not to smirk at that a little. //Don't encourage 'im.// "So, Steve, what about this demi-god o' yours? We talkin' about something like Magneto, or is this one o' those deals where I'm gonna get turned inside-out a few times before we win?"

Unlike Logan, Steve couldn't help but smile at Tony's incessant wheedling attempts to get another drink out of the man. Still he snapped to focus at once when Logan asked about their potential foe. "More the second one, I think. He's a literal demigod. The upside is that his brother's fighting with us, the downside is that he's a real handful. This isn't going to be easy, but, then, you don't strike me as being much for easy. When Tony's a little less, um, relaxed and we're someplace more secure, he can pull up the files we have." Unable to resist asking, Steve ventured, "How far back to you remember?" 

Logan had to take a minute to wonder how he kept getting conned into things that would likely result in a lot of hurting, but then Steve reminded him without prompting. He hesitated at the blonde's next question, though. Talking about his past didn't usually come easily. But at least the Cap seemed like he would be able to understand to some extent. "Clearly? Maybe back to the late eighties. Woke up on three mile island in the middle o' what looked like a disaster area. I get little bits 'n' pieces before that: the Civil War, D-Day, Vietnam. Used to think they were just dreams. Then I ran into some folks that told me I could actually be around two hundred years old." He snorted. "Sure as hell feel like it some days."

"See, Cap, you're not the only one who's aged well," Tony said, reaching across and under the bar to grab whichever liquor bottle he could find and helping himself to its contents.

Logan started to try and stop Stark, then thought better of it. //Maybe he'll be easier to put up with if he's unconscious.//

"Well, sorry I missed you in the big one, then," Steve answered with a hint of a smile before sighing as Tony twisted the cap off a bottle of whiskey. His first instinct was to reach out and grab it away from the man, but he knew that would stop Tony for a few moments at best. "Might be nice not being the oldest guy in the room for once." They were obviously very, very different people, but Steve genuinely felt that they could connect. They had more in common than he did with most of the Avengers, honestly, and somehow he'd managed to find common ground with them. "Where are you staying? I should probably get him away from the bar soon if I don't want to carry him out of here. Tony? Ease up for a second, would ya?"

Tony managed to pout drunkenly as he put the bottle away. "Hey, I'm not the one who appointed me the guy who gets drunk for the three of us. I definitely remember that *not* being me."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "He's got you there, slim," he said, then caught himself. He was already viewing Steve as Scott in some weird sense or another. //That's a little unfair. He's not nearly as much of a tool.// "Don't really have a place to stay. Usually just find a place where I can work off a night's rent. But if you two have a couch I could sleep on somewhere, I'll admit I could use a break from washin' dishes."

"I think we can manage one better than that. There's a pull out in our room." Tony had been kind enough to find them a suite in an Americanized hotel so that Steve wouldn't have one more set of things to feel completely lost about. "Which Tony can sleep on," Steve added after a beat. He was so drunk already that he wasn't likely to know the difference, and it sounded like it had been awhile since Logan had slept in a proper bed. Steve slid from his stool and offered an arm to Tony. "I know better than to think you're walking out of here unassisted without giving yourself a concussion."

Tony opened his mouth to protest, then grudgingly grabbed Steve's arm and took the liberty of using it as leverage to pull himself up and throw his arm around the blonde's shoulders. "I'm... can walk out of here wherever I want," he protested without really arguing.

Logan couldn't entirely suppress a smirk. "So this happens a lot, huh?" Reaching out, he grabbed the case of cigars out of Tony's breast pocket. "Y'know, I think I'll have one o' these after all," he said, helping himself and lighting it. It had been awhile since Logan had had anything nice. "Let's go. Before we completely wear out my welcome. I kinda like this place."

"Y'know, for a guy with a good sense of smell, you pick some awful smelling places to hang out," Tony pointed out as Steve started hauling him out of the bar. "Or is it like a dog thing? Y'know, y'smell something we think is awful, but you wanna roll in it?"

Logan took a long look at Tony, then glanced at Steve. "So this guy works with the Hulk?"

"You know Bruce?" Steve inquired with surprise before looking back over at Tony. "Yes, he does. Actually, they're pretty close." He'd even experienced the odd twinge of jealousy at how easily Bruce and Tony interacted. When they got off on some tangent about mechanics and engineering, Steve could only look on, utterly lost. He poked Tony in the side with his free hand and pointed out, "You smell like a still. I'm surprised you can even tell what the bar smells like anymore." Steve took the opportunity of Tony protesting to slide his cell phone out and call a cab. As much as he hated constantly being virtually tethered to the device, it certainly had its moments of convenience. "We'll be on our way in a second." Steve tossed a fond smile at the man currently leaning against his side and told Logan, "He's actually brilliant."

"I don't know... Bruce?... but I've heard plenty about your crew. Your genius buddy there seems like the sort who enjoys pushing buttons, though. Would think he and the green rage monster would be like mixin' nitro and glycerin."

"Bruce has a sense of humor. I can tell. He kind of smirked a little once," Tony said, leaning against Steve. "And you smell like Old Spice and Brylcreem. Which I didn't even know they made anymore."

Logan climbed into the cab as it rolled up at the end of the alleyway. "I won't mention what *you* smell like, moneybags. Get your ass into the cab before the Cap and I throw you in the trunk."

Muttering to himself, Tony complied, climbing into the front passenger seat, much to the cabbie's apparent chagrin.

"You'd be amazed at the things Agent Coulson can find on the internet," Steve pointed out as he held the door for Logan to climb in. He knew exactly what Logan meant about Tony and the Hulk. He had frankly expected the worst himself, but thankfully Bruce had turned out to be almost as zen as Tony was manic. Together they created an odd sort of harmony. He gave the cabbie the name of the hotel and breathed a sigh of relief when no further interaction was necessary. Sober, Tony could have translated fluently. Drunk, Steve was worried they'd end up getting dropped off at a brothel instead of their hotel. Thankfully when they pulled up, the gleaming exterior was blessedly familiar. The luxury of the place was almost embarrassing, and Steve shrugged as he held the door open for Tony to make sure the playboy didn't end up on his ass instead of his feet. "Like I said, we have plenty of room."

"Government and their deep pockets," Logan muttered, looking around at the opulent lobby. He didn't show it, but he felt notably out of place, and the rich dignitaries floating around sipping champagne and pretending to be civilized rubbed him entirely the wrong way. Thankfully, Steve and Tony moved fast enough to get them to their suite before Logan got eyeballed more than he'd like. //Guess flannel's not in style around here.//

Tony managed to slip free from Steve as soon as they got in the doorway. "Oh, hey, forgot we had a wet bar--"

Logan caught the back of Stark's shirt and hauled him to the floor, then proceeded to drag him to the foldout couch. Tony didn't protest much, crossing his arms over his chest. "Tell ya what. You manage to find you way over there on your own, and you can have all ya want."

"It's no fun if you don't drink with me, though," Tony argued even as he flopped over the couch. "No need for fold-out. Too much effort." He turned on his side to face the back of the couch, then held up a hand. "Tuck me in?"

Logan carelessly threw a blanket over Tony, "I ain't kissin' you good night."

Steve couldn't help smiling at the scene. There weren't many people who would be that indulgent with Tony on a first meeting, but Logan took it in stride. He was well aware that it was something like watching a parent trying to put their unruly child to bed, but no one would ever claim that Tony Stark was anything but an overgrown man-child most of the time. "Thanks for not adding any extra perforations," Steve said with a smile when Logan rejoined him. "He's a crazy drunk, but he's our crazy drunk. Hey, if you need any spare clothes, I've got some things that might fit." At the skeptical look on the man's face, Steve crossed to his suitcase and flipped it open to reveal a few casual button downs and well-pressed jeans. "You could try Tony's if you'd rather, but I can't see you in a blazer." 

"Dunno if I can get used to starched jeans, but I'm sure what I'm wearin' could use a refresh. Pretty sure I couldn't cram myself into one o' his shirts if I wanted to," he remarked, glancing back at the pile of already snoring playboy on the couch. "So where'm I sleepin', anyway?" He hesitated, then glanced at Steve. "And... I dunno what all that super serum does for ya, bub, but if I look like I'm havin' a bad dream, best to just let me sleep through it."

"Two beds," Steve explained, nodding toward the California king beds on the other side of the room's divider. "Honestly it's probably enough room to have shared with Tony, but he snores when he's drunk." After all the time he'd spent in one barracks or another, Steve was happy to have his own space sometimes. "Not to mention that I don't want to be in the way if he has a hangover tomorrow. As for the nightmares, I'll lay low. Up to your discretion if you wake me." He didn't have them as much anymore, but his first few nights out of the ice, Steve had woken up drenched in sweat and unable to get warm no matter how many blankets he wrapped around himself or how many scalding showers he took. Coulson still gently tried to insist that he speak to someone about the dreams, but it was bad enough having them to start with. "I'm gonna turn in, but don't worry about waking me if you aren't ready to knock off for the night. I'm a pretty heavy sleeper," Steve assured as he fished some pajamas of a markedly old-fashioned design out of his suitcase. 

Logan had to bite back more snark at the sight of the pajamas. They looked like something Beaver Cleaver's dad would have worn. For his part, Logan would've prefered his long pajama pants, but tighty whities would do in a pinch. He shrugged off his motorcycle jacket, peeled off his shirt, undershirt, and beat up jeans and then settled onto the edge of the bed. The mattress gave under his adamantium-laced weight, but held well enough. "Nice," he remarked before crawling under the sheets.

====================

Logan smiled faintly as he noted the arm around his waist, and leaned back into the weight behind him. "Kayla..." As he slowly regained more awareness though, he registered a persistent stale booze smell and overpriced cologne. "Stark!" Logan was out of the bed and on his feet in an instant. 

Tony responded with a much weaker yell of his own, his hair mussed in the early morning light as he squinted painfully at Logan's backlit silhouette. "Ahh... whyyy are we yelling...?" He rolled over and pulled a pillow over his head.

Heavy sleeper or not, it took seconds before Steve was on his feet and standing behind Logan. "What- oh." The situation became clear rather quickly, and he had to fight not to laugh. He had learned the first time he was around a truly sloshed Tony Stark that the man could be a bit handsy when he was inebriated. "Tony, I imagine you don't remember, but you started the night out on the couch. You ended it in Logan's bed. I think it was a little.. startling," he supplied as calmly as possible, though Steve finally gave up trying not to smile. Deciding that caffeine might diffuse the situation and convince Logan not to make good on his threats from the night before about slicing up their resident genius, Steve added, "I'll order us some breakfast," before making his way into the sitting area to place the order.

"Eggs, pancakes, and a pile o' bacon," Logan called after Steve's retreating back.

"What's the soup of the day?" Tony wanted to know as he cast about for a pair of pants. //Funny, could've sworn I was wearing those last I looked.// "Vodka? Sherry? Hair of the dog that bit me?" He glanced at Logan.

"I didn't bite you, you oversold lunatic," Logan grunted, grabbing a pair of Steve's jeans and pulling them on. They were a little long and unpleasantly stiff, but they worked fine as soon as Logan got the legs rolled up a little. He added his own tank top to the ensemble and shuffled down the hallway. "Just make sure ya don't forget to zip up." In the kitchenette, Logan settled on one of the barstools and shook his head. "Hadn't bet on gettin' cuddled as part o' the deal. You guys always this friendly at SHIELD?"

"Well, I guess that depends who you wake up next to," Steve answered with a smirk. "Don't expect Natasha to be quite so pleasant first thing in the morning, but her breath's better." He abandoned the conversation long enough to meet room service at the door and came back pushing a tray brimming with a wide variety of options. Steve had learned from experience that whatever he ordered, Tony would ask for something else, so it paid to cover most of the bases to start with unless he wanted breakfast to last until lunch. "How do you take your coffee, Logan?" he inquired after pouring three mugs and grabbing the sugar for his own.

"Black 'n' angry," Logan said, reaching for one just in time for Tony to snatch it first. Unwilling to admit to irritation, Logan took the last mug standing.

"Ooo, nice. Eggs Benedict," Tony muttered, grabbing the plate. He was already somehow looking miraculously like he didn't have a hangover at all. He settled down with his food and the accompanying newspaper. "Hmm... nothing new. Guess Loki hasn't turned up yet."

Logan helped himself to a good sized pile of eggs and bacon and started wolfing them down like he expected someone to take the plate from him at any moment. "So what now? You guys show me some cleverly disguised secret facility with an airplane under the basketball court? You're gonna have to do a lot if you wanna show Xavier up."

"Uh, actually, huge tower with a big A on it in the middle of New York City," Steve answered with a shake of his head. "That's the whole thing with us: no hiding. It's all out there. We're out there. People know our faces, they know our names - well, most of us. We each have our own suites in the tower, and most of R&D and the meeting rooms are downstairs. A lot of us also have places of our own, and you're welcome to if you'd rather. I've got a place in Brooklyn. Would've felt too weird not to even if the neighborhood's not exactly what it was." Steve's plate was a fastidiously balanced mix of eggs, bacon, fruit, and a large stack of pancakes. “I still spend a fair amount of my time at the tower for convenience.” 

Logan shrugged. "I'm not picky, long as there's somewhere horizontal to sleep and a shower. TV couldn't hurt, either."

"Y'mean you don't just take dirt baths?" Tony said from behind his newspaper.

Logan ignored him. "I like the 'no hidin'' part. Though I ain't lookin' for a spotlight on me, either. I don't like reporters."

"It's okay. I do. I'll strike a pose, and you can run away." Tony looked over his newspaper. "Or just start eating. That's kinda hard to watch."

"As long as there ain't any more o' you gettin' in bed with me. That sounds like a bad tabloid article." He glanced at Steve. "This gig doesn't come with an ugly uniform, does it? Had all I can stand of creepy leather one pieces."

"Your uniform is your business," Steve answered. "We've all got our own style. As Tony mentioned, he prefers to be the center of attention. Actually, I think Natasha and Clint are the only ones who wear leather," he mused, thinking it over for a moment before finishing off his coffee. "If you're good to go in a t-shirt and jeans, that's fine. For most of us it's about protection and comfort. You've got a little less need for that first one." From what he'd seen in the clips that Tony showed him, Logan could take a beating that would leave most men dead or at the very least unconscious and wind up barely injured and more pissed off than he started out. "If you don't have any extra stops to make, we can get going after breakfast. I'm sure Director Fury would like the chance to talk with you." That was if the man didn't opt out and send Coulson in to brief their newest member. He'd done it often enough lately that Steve was starting to wonder if it was some kind of payback for how much complaining the agent had done about Fury ruining his trading cards.

"I don't have anywhere I need to go. Especially if we're goin' wherever this Natasha-in-leather is."

"Don't get too excited, Hairy. I think Clint might take exception to your interest," Tony remarked, putting down his paper and gathering up his few belongings to toss into his suitcase. "Don't think he could kill you, but an arrow in the eye socket might kinda ruin your cheerful disposition."

"Might do wonders for yours," Logan shot back, though someone with a sharp eye might have caught a brief smirk. "Not sure I like this whole 'Director' thing, I gotta say."

"Don't worry, none of us trust him further than we can throw him. Well, I don't. Cap's good at following orders, and Bruce just sort of keeps his head in the books. Thor doesn't really have an opinion. Maybe because he views us all as overdeveloped insects." Tony paused. "Okay, so maybe I'm the only one who has the paranoia, but that means you and I have something in common."

"Great. We should hang out," Logan said, grabbing his clothes from the bedroom and wadding them up under his arm. "I'm packed. Let's get outta here before Stark remembers where the bar is."

That sounded like a solid plan. Steve hefted his suitcase and, after a pause in which he waited pointedly and in vain for Tony to get his, grabbed his teammate's case as well. The trip home wasn't as bad as Steve might've anticipated with Logan and Tony trapped in a small space together. Neither man killed or tried to kill the other, and Steve even managed to get some sketching done. By the time they arrived at Avengers tower, Steve was starting to believe that things might actually be alright.

True to his punishment theory, it was not Fury who met them when they landed. Wearing mirrored glasses, the man who was their contact smiled politely and held a hand out, "Mr. Logan, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Phil Coulson."

//Phil?// The guy looked somewhere between badass and someone who should be trading comic books in his mom's basement. All the same, Logan shook hands. "You can drop the 'mister' part, Coulson. I ain't much for titles."

"Or being remotely civilized. Next time you get in a plane with me, you are *not* eating a half dozen eggs beforehand," Tony groused as he got out of the plane, yet again leaving Steve to take care of his baggage. It wasn't personal as much as Tony was just accustomed to someone taking care of it. Usually Pepper.

Logan smirked. "Just consider it turnabout for the rude awakenin' this morning, and be glad you didn't lose an everything in the process." He turned his attention back to Coulson. "So... Phil. Steve tells me you've got all the info I could ever want about what it is I'll be doing here."

"I can tell you I have all the info you're going to have until we have a more concrete idea of what Loki's plans are," Coulson agreed amiably enough. "If you'd like to get settled first, Mr. Rogers can show you to one of the empty suites. Then you can meet me downstairs in the conference room."

Steve offered the other man a warm smile despite the fact that he'd somehow ended up Tony's bellhop again. "Follow me. We'll have you set up in no time." Without really giving Logan a chance to refuse, Steve led the way to the elevator. It was spacious enough for all of them to fit with room to spare on the way down, though Phil remained behind to go down to the meeting rooms while Steve, Logan and Tony disembarked to get comfortable. "There's an open suite down the hall from mine if that's alright."

"Sounds good to me," Logan readily agreed. It sounded extremely reassuring, actually, having someone nearby that he felt any kind of connection with. "Guess I'll haveta go shoppin' for somethin' to wear. Not sure how many more washes my stuff can take," he remarked as Steve let him into his room. It was a pretty nice place, a lot more plush than Logan was used to, though that didn't say much. A metal cot and a wall locker would have felt more familiar, but Logan wasn't going to gripe about having a real mattress to sleep on again.

"Yeah, just do us a favor and wash your socks once or twice a month, alright?" Tony chimed in.

"Sure. I'll dip 'em in your Scotch collection," Logan assured. He tossed his dirty clothes in one corner of the room, pleased to note a small kit of toiletries sitting on the corner of the sink in the small bathroom as he took a second to make sure he didn't look like a complete wreck from the flight. Stepping back out, he nodded to Tony and Steve. "Alright, let's go see what Phil has to say." //It's gonna be hard takin' him seriously with a name like 'Phil'.//

"He's a good guy," Steve assured, though he wondered if 'good' was something that Logan looked for in his friends. Steve didn't bother asking Tony if he was coming along. He'd either treat this meeting like most of the meetings he skipped or he'd insist on coming along to drive the rest of them crazy. It could go either way, and Steve wasn't in the mood to waste his breath guessing. 

As promised, Phil was stationed in one of the smaller meeting rooms downstairs with Loki's file already projected up onto the screen and several touch pads ready for the others to follow along. "I hope the room is to your liking," he commented before diving in. "The basics you probably know already: Loki is a god. Well, demigod. He's a bit of a silver tongued devil, not to mention that according to Thor he has spent much of his life pursuing a greater knowledge of the magical arts."

"Yeah, that's a thing," Steve interjected, wondering if Logan thought that was as crazy as he had the first time he heard the phrase. "What the file doesn't mention is that he likes it. Hurting people, making them mad, he feeds off of it."

"I have a rather nasty scar to attest to that," Coulson agreed grimly. "With most people, I wouldn't ask, but have you encountered anyone like this before?"

Logan already felt a little more respect for Coulson. If the guy had confronted this whatever-he-was that had the Avengers nervous enough to go digging Logan out of the deepest crevices in Tokyo, he could stand up to a hell of a lot. "How does he expect anyone to take him seriously in that outfit?"

Tony raised an eyebrow. "One word: Magneto."

Logan paused, then gave a head nod of concession. "Well, yeah, okay. There's that." He looked back to Coulson. "So, what exactly do you people think I can do against a demi god? Or is his only weakness adamantium?"

"We think you can live. That's more than some people can manage," Coulson answered with a hint of a smile. "We think you can take a beating. Tony can do it as Iron Man, Cap can handle it to a point, Thor can stand toe to toe, there's even Hulk, but that's... unpredictable. You can think and fight and probably come through the other side. What else do you think we might need, Logan?"

It wasn't artfully put, but it was succinct. Steve nodded his agreement with the sentiment. "When it comes to Loki, he could be up to just about anything. It could be plain old head games, or he could be working with somebody else. Until he shows up, we don't know. We need to be ready for anything, and considering everything you've done, it seems like you're ready for just that."

“Well, I'm hard enough to kill, I guess," Logan conceded. The idea of mind games wasn't comforting. Xavier had managed to do a lot to freak him out without even really trying. If someone decided to rummage around in his head too much, he wasn't sure how well anyone would come out for it.

"That's the spirit!" Tony said, giving Logan a hearty slap on the back. He grinned when Logan gave him a death stare. "We can all have near-death experiences together. I, for one, never get enough."

"So... mind games?" Logan asked, refocusing on things at hand. "I can smell my way through illusions alright," he said, recalling Mystique's attempt to fool him. "Somebody gets inside my head, though..." He trailed off, looking vaguely unsettled by the idea.

"It's a worst case scenario," Steve agreed quietly. Try as he might to be casual about everything, Steve doubted even Tony relished that particular thought. "You know the other options aren't good when somebody trying to take over the world sounds like a good way to go." He met Logan's gaze firmly. "It's important you know what's going on. If this is too much, I don't think anyone's going to blame you for leaving, but I really do hope you're willing to stay."

"I second that emotion," Phil added, though he suspected that Steve's vote counted for more than his own. "You can help here. You can do some good. That's ultimately what we're all looking to do even if we all go about it different ways. Even Stark."

"Haters gonna hate," Tony muttered, though he seemed completely unphased by the backhanded comment.

"Well, I didn't run screamin' from Magneto, and havin' a metal skeleton is about the last place you wanna be facing him down." He glanced at Tony. "Well, maybe the second-to-last place. I'm in, but you might wanna keep some kinda failsafe handy in case your drape-wearin' wingnut manages to scramble my brains."

"Hey, the drape thing? That was my joke. Just puttin' that out there," Tony said, putting aside his touchpad. "I, for one, would give my eye teeth to personally watch you stab Loki in the face. A few of us would, actually." He gave Phil a meaningful look. "And, who knows? Maybe Asgardians are susceptible to adamantium poisoning."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Uh... poisoning?"

"Yeah, stuff's potentially toxic at the right levels. Kind of like too many iron pills. Or having an iron skeleton. I'm sure your healing factor takes care of that, though."

Logan stood from the table. "Right. On that note, think I'll go... settle in." He stood and tried to walk as casually from the room as he could. It was frustrating, really, that this egotistical, barely-sane scientist seemed to know more about him than he or Xavier could ever have possibly figured out. Part of Logan wanted to go beat answers out of Tony, and the other part just didn't want to admit that the man might have anything Logan would value so much.


	3. Dancing the Night Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonding, dancing, a little making out. Tony Stark isn't good at subtle.

"You should be careful with him, Tony," Steve cautioned once Logan had left the room. "He likes you alright so far, but there's a lot of cracks already started. You push too hard, you're bound to break something." He didn't want to see Tony get hurt or Logan end up in a SHIELD holding facility because he'd gone off on their resident playboy genius. "Tell him everything, but tell him when he asks." Some things Logan didn't remember might be for the best. Certainly Steve could allow that there were a few things he wouldn't mind scrubbing from his memory, and he knew Tony had more than his share too. "I'm gonna go see if we can help get him some new clothes or anything. You coming?"

Tony shook his head. "Nope. Think I'll put some files together for him. In case he decides to ask, and all. And maybe make sure he's not gonna be the first one Loki reaches for if he decides he needs another drone. Come to think of it, maybe I should talk to Clint..."

Logan slowed his pace a little when he heard the doors to the meeting room slide open. He could tell by the footsteps that it was Steve, and that he was alone. He stopped and turned around, crossing his arms over his chest. "If you're worried about me stabbin' 'im in the lungs, don't. If he pisses me off enough, most I'll do is knock loose a few teeth, maybe break his pretty nose."

"I've gotta be honest, I like him unbroken," Steve answered. Sometimes he wondered if he liked Tony a little too much. Being friends with his team was wonderful, but Steve had learned the hard way that romance and work could get pretty messy in combination, not least because their "work" tended to be so potentially deadly. "But we all want to slug him every now and then." Steve put a companionable hand on Logan's shoulder as they walked down the hall. "If he knows something, he wants everyone to know he knows it. If he has something to show you, he's like a five year old who just made a drawing they're really proud of. You just have to ride it out."

"So, if I hang the briefing on the breakroom fridge, he'll leave me alone?" Logan deadpanned, then quirked a faint smile. "Okay, maybe I'll just tenderize 'im some, then." He sighed. "Y'know, as much as I hate shoppin', I'm gonna need more clothes. Unless you people got some layin' around. And a beer and a steak wouldn't hurt my feelin's, either." He wondered a little at what exactly Steve thought of Tony. Instincts and base emotions and impulses were the things Logan understood best, and it wasn't hard to read the blonde's body language even if Steve himself might not have been entirely aware of how he was acting.

"I think we can take care of that for you. Fury keeps telling me I should use the company card for something other than basics. I'm pretty sure steak, some good beer, and a new wardrobe count." The idea of getting out for reasons almost entirely unrelated to work was rather pleasant. Steve called a cab, still too uncertain about the idea of driving on the cutthroat streets of New York to try it. Coulson had given him a few lessons, and it hadn't even taken him entirely through the second one to realize he didn't honestly want to take things any farther. 

"I know I could just use a company car, but it's just... cabs are more... casual," Steve explained with a shrug as they piled into the backseat and asked the man to take them to the nearest clothing store that wasn't an overpriced, creepy boutique. "Usually I just walk when I can."

They rolled up in front of some outdoorsy-looking place that didn't appear to be full of barely post-pubescent kids, and Logan nodded his approval. "I'm more used to Goodwill, but this'll work," he decided, making a beeline for some button-down shirts. It took some work to find things appropriate for his height that he could actually get an arm through, but he finally managed to get an assortment of shirts. Most of them were in muted plaid colors, but Logan hadn't exactly picked them because they were pretty. He managed to locate some decent undershirts and a couple pairs of jeans as well. He started for the checkout counter, then held them up for Steve to look over. "As someone slightly less fashion-challenged than me, whaddaya think?"

Visibly surprised at being dubbed the more fashion-forward of them, Steve looked the shirts over and nodded his approval. They looked comfortable, functional, and obviously plaid and wife beaters were Logan's standard uniform. "I think they'll do just fine." 

The girl behind the counter began scanning the whole mess, listless and barely paying attention, but perked up slightly when she took in her customers, especially Steve. "Hey... hey, you're that superhero guy, right?"

Steve blushed but nodded bashfully. "I work with the Avengers," he allowed.

"That's so cool!" she enthused only to realize she'd stopped scanning after getting a dirty look from Logan. The girl hurried through the rest of the items and kept tittering and smiling at every small, polite comment for the rest of the transaction. 

By the end, Steve was more than happy to flee from the store with Logan's new clothes and retreat to the nearest restaurant. "Sometimes I think being standoffish isn't so bad." Not nearly as many people tried to bother Natasha if they happened to spot her out in the world. The woman exuded an air of 'touch me and die' that Steve knew he'd never pull off. "This place has great food. You won't be disappointed."

"Standoffish only works half the time. Other half, girls just think it's cool," he said, taking a deep breath as they entered the restaurant. "Woah... Smells amazin'. Only way it'd be better is if I killed it myself." There were even craft beers. //Nice... real nice.//

After putting up with more fangirling from the hostess, Logan managed to convince her to hide them in a corner of the restaurant. "Last thing I need is a buncha kids to see ya," Logan pointed out as he looked over the menu. He didn't have a huge aversion to kids per se, but the idea of trying to peacefully enjoy a beer while a bunch of screaming rugrats crawled all over Steve like he was a jungle gym and asked weird kid questions just sounded like a kind of pain he wasn't willing to put up with.

Steve was actually fond of kids, but he understood the sentiment. They were just getting to know one another, and it was nice to be able to carve out a little time for relaxation. A horde of underaged fans wouldn't exactly be the right way to start that off. When the waitress arrived, Steve ordered one of the larger steaks on the menu medium rare along with a beer. Catching the look Logan gave him, he smiled. "When in Rome..." He passed his menu over and waited for Logan to make his selection. "My image as a Boy Scout may be slightly exaggerated. Nobody's perfect all the time."

Logan picked a ribeye for himself, along with a nice craft beer. The waitress seemed quietly taken with them both, which Logan couldn't help but find amusing, at least until he remembered Jean's words. //"Girls always flirt with the bad guy, Logan; they don't take him home."// Recentering his attention on the moment at hand, he tilted his head at Steve. "So, I get the feelin' that in spite o' all the girls that throw themselves at you, you're still single. Nothin' caught your eye yet?"

Steve considered that, taking the beer gratefully when it arrived, and finally answered, "Let's just say there haven't been any opportunities that felt right." He'd been attracted to one or two people since his reappearance in the world, but Steve had never been good at quick and easy. On the rare occasions he gave in to such momentary impulses, he tended to feel more guilty than sated the day after. Turnabout was fair play, and Steve looked Logan over. "What about you? I think the waitress would be just as happy to take you home, but I haven't seen you slipping her your cell phone number. Safe to say you're unattached?" 

"I don't have a cell phone." Logan noted that that wasn't enough to distract Steve into letting it drop, and he sighed internally. "Yeah." He glanced to one side and clenched his jaw for a second as he thought about Jean, then nodded. "I get a roll in the hay once in awhile, but I don't seem to have much luck with keepin’ anyone around." He shrugged. "The kinda lifestyle I lead, girls ain't exactly linin' up to do much more than hit it an' quit it," he said with a faint grin, falling silent as the waitress dropped off their drinks and then moved away.

That much Steve could understand. "It's hard to get close to people," he agreed quietly. //And easy to lose them even once you do.// "I guess that's part of what I like about the team. Not that I get laid," Steve explained quickly, "but they’re people that I can get close to without thinking they won't be there the next day. They might be off on missions or something, but they come home in the end." 

Logan nodded. "Their odds're better, at least," he noted, thinking of the televised stunt that Stark had pulled during that alien invasion not too long ago. Logan wasn't a doctor, but it hadn't looked to him like Tony had been doing so well with the whole being alive thing at first. Logan had seen entirely too many X-Men lost in conflict either to death or to people like Magneto, who saw those around him as a means to an end. "Good news is, I'm apparently mostly indestructible, and Stark's too much of a tool to die." 

"I hope so," Steve answered. He still remembered the heart-pounding fear he felt when Tony fell through the portal, those breathless moments before his eyes opened. It had been hell. Nevermind that earlier the same day he'd been ready to throw Tony through a wall. All it took was thinking that the man might be gone to realize that none of the fighting mattered. Steve shook it off with an effort and met Logan's gaze again. "You shouldn't give up, though. There's a right fit for everybody."

Logan shrugged, leaning back long enough for the waitress to put their food on the table. "Guess so. I can't help wonderin' if the me before I forgot everything had anyone. There was a woman's body in the wreckage at Three Mile. I remember starin' at her, thinkin' I oughta know who she was." He shook his head and frowned. "No idea, though. Couldn't find anything on 'er. Really, not sure I wanna know. I met Stryker before he died. Things he said... makes me unsure if I wanna know who I was before."

"Maybe it doesn't matter who you were before," Steve answered earnestly. "What matters is the man you are now and the choices you make from here." He ducked his head, suddenly sheepish. "Sorry. Tony always tells me I sound like a cheap recruitment poster when I talk like that." Instead of saying more, Steve tucked into his food. As always, the fare was filling and well cooked. He liked even more that the restaurant's atmosphere was quiet and laid back with none of the bustling, overwrought energy that infused the rest of the city. "Maybe the two of us should go out to a bar or something. We did pretty well with the waitress."

Logan quirked a faint grin, glad for the distraction of company. It was hard not to wallow in the past couple decades of his life when it was all he could remember. Hell, it'd been a couple of months after he'd come to on Three Mile before he'd rediscovered his claws. Figuring other things out was even more of a chore and had a tendency to occupy his thoughts on a good day or become an unhealthy brood-and-booze session at worst. "Alright. A bar it is. Know any good-?" Logan was interrupted by the ring of Steve's cellphone, and Logan cringed when Steve got the thing out and it was flashing Stark's name and face. The feral mutant had to bite back a groan as his ears picked up Tony's end of the line.

"Steve! Just tied up my little project, and I'm bored. You guys doing anything?"

It never occurred to Steve to lie. "We were just finishing up with dinner. Talking about maybe finding a bar to go to after, but I haven't really been to any around here," he confessed. Not picking up on Logan's not-so-subtle signals to shut up and shut up fast, the man ventured, "Don't suppose you have any suggestions?" If anyone was going to know a good, casual bar in the area, it would be Tony. He seemed to be able to find a bar absolutely anywhere. 

Logan eventually gave up his attempts to signal Steve to lie like his life depended on it and suppressed a sigh. //If we're gonna work together, he's *got* to learn t' read me better,// he thought.

"Oh, I know a *great* place. Meet me on the corner of Fifth and Elm. I'll be there in ten." The phone beeped an end to its connection without so much as a goodbye from Tony or an attempt to get confirmation from Steve.

Logan was relieved he was done eating, at least. "Guy doesn't fool around where booze is concerned, does he?" he asked, though he had to allow a grudging smirk. //Can't say I blame 'im.//

"I didn't realize he was going to... I should have realized that," Steve answered with a sigh, only belatedly piecing together just how blind he'd been. "Sorry." He paid the check and tipped the waitress well before preceding Logan out the door. They were close enough that it wasn't worth hailing a cab, and since they were both in good shape, a brisk walk soon had them on the corner awaiting Tony Stark. "On the upside, if anybody's gonna know a good place to see about meeting somebody, it's Tony." He had watched a disturbing parade of women pass through Tony's bedroom since his break-up with Pepper. "He doesn't sleep alone very often."

"Fair enough," Logan said, unable to keep from rolling his eyes when a car that looked like it was worth two houses worth of money rolled up.

Tony climbed out of the car with easy grace, walked briskly past the two men waiting, and handed his key over to the valet standing behind them. "No scratches, kid. Put 'er somewhere safe. Or don't. It's insured." He turned to face Steve and Logan, jerking a thumb back toward the very high-priced looking building behind him. "The Running Horse. Good place."

Logan raised an eyebrow. He was pretty sure that Stark's suit was worth more money than Logan had seen in the course of the past decade, and the place they were standing in front of looked like the cover charge required taking out a loan. In fact, the feral mutant hadn't even registered that it was a bar because he was expecting something a little more humble. "Uh, does this place have a dress code?"

"Oh, I think you'll be fine," Tony replied with one of those smirks that said he was definitely up to something. "Shall we?" Again without waiting for a response, Tony moved for the door, and the bouncer standing guard moved the velvet rope aside and waved the three of them in.

"Um, yeah," Steve answered as he followed Tony in. He felt out of place before they even entered the club. Much like Logan, the posh exterior and velvet ropes had left him with a creepy, crawling feeling that the place was going to be very much the opposite of the cozy bar he'd been hoping for. Inside everything was chrome and velvet and glittering chandeliers, and for a few minutes all Steve could do was stare open-mouthed at the bar itself. Once his gaze finally lowered Steve picked up on another fact about the place. There were men everywhere. Only men everywhere. "Uh, Tony?" he ventured quietly. When the billionaire seemed too distracted chatting with an acquaintance to turn around at once, Steve tapped him impatiently on the shoulder. "Tony, is this... is this a gay bar?"

"It *could* be describe as enthusiastic. Happy. Maybe gay," Tony allowed with his usual smirk, deadpan as he heedlessly led them to the bar itself. "Scotch, Danny. And whatever my associates want."

Logan noted that there were a few guys already eyeing him, and glanced at Tony. "Uh, I think there was an idea about getting drinks *and* women."

Tony spun around on the barstool and leaned back against the bar, placing both arms on it. "Hey, you said a nice bar, Steve. You said *nothing* about women." He looked to Logan. "And you... could stand to relax. I mean, you're nearly immortal. You going to spend another two or three hundred years batting for just one team? Sounds like it'd get dull," he pointed out as a drink was put into his hand.

Logan glanced at Steve. The tall blonde seemed unlikely to leave Tony, and Tony seemed unlikely to leave the bar anytime soon. Reluctantly, Logan climbed on a barstool a space down from Tony and told Danny to get him a beer, figuring he'd be marginally less likely to perforate Stark if Steve was sitting between them.

"To be fair, we talked about picking someone up... not picking up girls specifically." Steve let the comment lie and ordered a Coke from the bartender. Being attracted to both genders had been something to hide carefully once upon a time, but times had changed. He'd done his fair share of reading up on the situation, but seeing in practice men openly dancing together and having a good time was a whole other thing. It was nice, actually. He looked sideways at Logan and arched an eyebrow. "You've really only ever dated girls?" Tony had a point - given the man's longevity it seemed odd to think he'd never at least tried anything outside the box. //Of course he may just not remember it.//

Logan shrugged and turned away from the bar enough to look at his companions. "Far as I can remember." He hadn't really thought about it much. He sure as hell didn't give a damn what other people did, or even have a thought about freaking out if a guy were to hit on him. As to whether he'd accept... //Right guy? Guess it could be.// He noted a very young, very flamboyant-looking man at one of the distant tables. "Guess I just never thought much o' havin' a guy around as interested in shoes and People magazine as Marie 'n' Ororo were," he said, making it clear he wasn't interested in the bystander by turning more toward Steve. "I mean, if I'm gonna date a guy, I want all the perks, too."

"Body hair and a tendency to scratch yourself in public?" Tony asked, finishing off his Scotch in one gulp and ordering another.

"I was thinkin' more about beer and killin' cute forest animals for food," Logan replied, remembering his rude awakening that morning. The fact that Stark had dragged them to a gay bar was starting to seem less surprising. Then again, Steve had mentioned a parade of women, nothing about men. //Unless playboy's into high-priced drag queens.// Logan hesitated. "So..." //I'm gonna regret this...// "...what about the two o' you?"

Steve hesitated, but Tony obviously wanted him to go first. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead confessed, "I have. It was... different then. Had to keep things quiet. But I have." Instinct told him to look around the room and make sure no one had overheard, but the naked truth was that no one in the room would care. Suspecting it was too intimate a thought but wanting to clarify just the same, Steve ventured, "When I'm attracted to someone, I'm attracted to them. Gender just... doesn't really matter."

Logan nodded. "Fair enough." He was about to try and think of something to add when Tony saved him from it.

"For my part... well, alcohol can convince me to do a *lot* of things," Tony admitted with no apparent shame and actually a little bit of a grin. "So, yeah. I've had a few guys. Sometimes a few all at once."

"Stark? Too much info," Logan decided. He briefly wondered if the idea had been to get the three of them in a pile in the same bed. He had to admit he wouldn't mind giving Steve a try, but the guy seemed a little too conservative or self conscious to try just a fling. Honestly, the idea had merit. //And then I'd *have* to kill Stark afterwards. Won't be able to put up with whatever random commentary he'd have.//

Steve wondered briefly if it was too much or not nearly enough and blushed at the thought. He reminded himself that he had sworn off lusting after coworkers, but that was easier said than done when Tony was drinking and flirting rather shamelessly. He tried to focus on his Coke for a minute and only succeeded in catching the bartender's eye. The man smiled warmly and offered, "You sure you don't want something harder, sweetie? Something tells me there's plenty of guys who wouldn't mind you getting a little tipsy."

"No, thank you. I'm alright." Steve was blushing by the time the man turned his attention to the next customer and glanced over at Tony. "Well, the people are friendly. Do you come here a lot?"

Logan had to grin as he watched Steve turn all the shades of red in the book, but he had the decency to not make it worse by commenting. His instincts about Steve's interest in Stark definitely seemed to be proving true. //Wonder how Tony managed to sneak all those guys past blondie. Or maybe 'why' would be a better question.// Stark didn't seem like the type to be unselfish. He was narcissistic, brilliant, self-destructive, an asshole, and nothing about him said 'considerate'.

Tony was busy answering Steve's question, though. "Once in awhile. When I want something different." He ordered another drink for himself from Danny, giving the bartender a wink when Danny did a little flirting of his own. "Found it when I got lost, actually. Or was that when I got drunk?"

"And how often do ya get takeout here?" Logan wanted to know. He felt suddenly protective of Steve. It seemed like a pretty terrible idea for the seemingly more traditionally-minded blonde to hook up with a guy who probably changed partners more often than he changed his underwear.

"I'd have to consult my database," Tony fired back, looking as irritated as he ever got. "Probably not more often than you pick up low class hookers."

The tension in the room had ratcheted up so quickly it made Steve's head spin. He held up a hand. "Guys? We came here to have a drink and relax, not to pick apart each other's habits. You need to play nice." Even though the music pumping through the speakers wasn't his usual, Steve rose and offered, "Want to dance?" Maybe if he could at least separate the two men for a few minutes, things could go back to a base level of animosity. 

Before Logan even had a chance to say no, Stark was on his feet, "Sounds good." Tony grabbed Steve's arm just as the lights in the room went down, highlighting the dancefloor with spotlights of various colors. "You ever danced to music like this?" he asked the blonde as the beat got slower but no less charged. He pulled the taller man close and gave Steve his best bad boy grin, the one that could always keep Pepper from staying mad at him for more than a few seconds, the same one that had him taking his pick of who he brought home anytime he wanted it. His hands were on Steve's hips, holding him bare inches from his own body as he showed Steve how to move.

It would have made things a lot easier if that smile didn't send his pulse skyrocketing or if he was entirely immune to the warmth of Tony's hands gripping his hips. Steve had been a decent dancer once upon a time, but that was a whole different time and a whole different kind of dancing. This particular brand of dancing seemed less like dance and more like grinding on the dancefloor in a manner that Steve would have normally relegated entirely to the bedroom. Trying very, very hard not to think about whether Tony moved just as well between the sheets, Steve said, "You should be careful about pushing Logan so hard. He might not take it as well as Bruce and I do." It took time to develop a thick skin to Tony's oddly insightful brand of insults.

Tony shrugged even as he somehow managed to keep dancing and edge a little closer. "Y'know, I've pissed off far scarier people... things... and lived. I'll be fine," Tony assured, briefly wondering how true that was. It was hard to get too worried with Steve so close. Truth be told, Tony had been eyeballing the tall blonde for awhile, but something had always held him back. Tony was too impulsive to worry about mixing business with pleasure, but when it came to catching feelings, he had a tendency to be slightly more cautious. "I think as long as I don't punch a baby in front of him, I'll be fine."

Logan, meanwhile, was busy trying to ignore the guy next to him that was doing a lot of work to get his attention. "You're drunk, kiddo; go home," he finally growled. The very delicate-looking, barely-legal young man flounced off, and Logan turned his attention back to Tony and Steve on the dancefloor. It made his blood boil to see how close Stark was getting to Steve. //Yeah, and is that protective instinct, or jealousy? Stark's got a headstart if you're thinkin' o' takin' a guy home for the first time you can remember.// "Archie? Danny? Whatever... bring me another beer."

"Let's put that on the 'not to do' list as a general rule if you don't mind," Steve answered. He glanced back to the bar and saw Logan nursing a fresh beer. It wasn't like they had to worry about the man getting drunk, but he still looked pretty disgruntled. Deciding he needed to stop focusing on the negative and start focusing on the positive, Steve offered his dance partner a warm smile. "You're good at this. Sorry I'm not. This is definitely a different style for me." For a moment Steve had to tamp down the impulse to wipe the smirk off of Tony's face with a kiss. That he could definitely do, but Steve forced himself to think of why that might not be the best idea.

Tony flicked a quick look toward the bar just as Logan turned away from them and focused on one of the TV screens instead. He turned his attention back to Steve. "Doing fine. I'm making this up as I go, actually," he answered. A little trickle of sweat was running down the side of Steve's face, and Tony decided it was a *very* good look for the blonde. "So, he's not looking. Are you gonna kiss me, or am I gonna have to slip you a super-roofie?"

The words were enough to send a spike of arousal right through him, and Steve hated himself for thinking when his instincts told him to act. "You're drunk. If I kiss you now, you won't even remember it tomorrow," Steve's voice dropped and he leaned in a little closer, "and that would be a real shame. I may not be very good at dancing, but..." The teasing was uncalled for, unprofessional, and probably playing with fire, but he couldn't help himself.

"You could remind me. We could record it. I have a smartphone," Tony pointed out, leaning up a little more, leaving very little space between them. Part of him wanted to just drag Steve down enough to seal the deal, but he held back. Part of the fun, after all, was the chase. That, and having to stand on his tiptoes to take charge might have been a little humiliating. "Or, y'know, we could just do it again in the morning if you don't mind hangover breath."

"No more drinks tonight," Steve countered, his arms snaking around Tony's back, and the space between them too small for him to want anything but to give in and kiss the man. "You can have one or the other, Tony. What'll it be?" he asked, voice a husky whisper as Steve fought to keep himself together. If Tony couldn't be bothered to at least treat it as something different from a random hook-up, it would be better to abstain. It would. Probably.

"Ultimatums. Very unfair. You play a tough game, Cap." Tony's own pulse was definitely hammering in his veins, though, and ignoring the strong arms around him and the warm body pressed against his own was just too much to ask. "I think I'll take the tall drink I've already got," he decided, his arms wrapping around Steve's waist and pulling their bodies together as he closed the last little distance for a kiss. It was as good as he'd always imagined. Steve felt as strong and gentle as he had always seemed.

Logan knew better. He knew he didn't want to turn around, but instincts wouldn't let him ignore what he intellectually knew had to be going on on the dancefloor, and he turned to steal a glance back at his two new comrades just as their lips met. Logan's jaw clenched, and he had to resist the urge to bound across the way and pull the two apart. //And what business o' yours is it, anyway?// Still, he knew jealousy when he felt it. It was just the same as when he'd found out Scott and Jean were together. //Gettin' to be a pattern. Show up somewhere and start wantin' what ain't mine.//

For a long moment Steve had no awareness of anything in the room except for Tony. The man's lips tasted like whiskey, but somehow that wasn't unpleasant. It was part of Tony, one of those dark, strange quirks that made the man so damn irresistible to begin with. Steve was more than grateful that Tony had chosen him over another drink because he wasn't sure he really could have stopped after they came so close. He tested the waters at first with a sweet, gentle kiss, learning the feel of Tony's mouth on his own and relishing how beautifully their bodies fit together as the last of the space between them disappeared. Though he'd certainly never planned to share his first kiss with Tony out in public - not that he'd exactly planned it to start with - Steve found it surprisingly easy to tune out everything else. 

Tony drew back to look into Steve's bright blue eyes and grinned a little. "Wow," he said with his usual lopsided grin. "That... wow." It wasn't often that Tony found himself at a loss for words, or at least without the ability to produce something like speech. //Well, not using my mouth for anything else...// He leaned in, pressed a quick kiss to Steve's lips, and then nibbled at the man's neck. There was a faint hint of stubble there, and Tony nipped at the skin, his breathing slow but forceful as he felt his arousal steadily increasing. He knew he should probably back off, confident that even if he didn't have any such compunctions, Steve probably wouldn't care to get too graphic in the middle of a large crowd. He couldn't resist a little bit of teasing before he let off some.

Back at the bar, Logan tore his gaze away and considered leaving. //Or I could be a man about all this and just accept that I don't always get what I want.//

Steve tipped his head back and simply enjoyed. It registered a moment later that things were going way too far way too fast considering they were standing in a crowd. Reluctantly he put a hand against Tony's cheek and murmured, "We should slow things down until we get home." Once they were somewhere a little more private, all bets were off. They'd apparently both been dancing around the issue of desire for awhile, and now that all their cards were on the table, there didn't seem much point in holding back anymore. He pulled back and slid a hand down to find Tony's, eyes silently questioning whether that was okay.

Tony looked almost pained as he nodded his assent. "Yeah. Not in the mood for a performance piece tonight," he said. It was a fair bet that at least a few in the crowd knew who they were, and an even fairer bet that a few cellphones had recorded what just happened. Tony couldn't have cared less, but he was sure that Steve might not be as big a fan of the world wide web being plastered with pictures of them necking. "Think we should collect the angry badger and get outta here?"

"Right, yeah," Steve agreed, feeling almost drunk himself although he hadn't even bothered attempting to drink alcohol on their excursion. When he saw the tight set of Logan's jaw and the way the man was pointedly looking away from them, he felt a rush of guilt. They'd all gone out together and Tony had started out as the third wheel. He knew very well exactly how awkward their circumstances had become thanks to the impromptu makeout session. "Hey, you about ready to get out of here?" Steve greeted Logan with an apologetic smile.

"Yeah," Logan answered, doing his best to not look too pissed. //Not his fault I keep gettin' drawn to the wrong people.// The mutant pushed himself up from the bar. "Let's get outta here."


	4. Sharing is Caring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get home. Things get weird. In a good way... mostly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a threesome. Like, pretty much the entire chapter except a few paragraphs at the start and the end. Not into it? Skip it!
> 
> Note: Steve/Logan/Tony isn't listed as a pairing because, well, it's just this once. So enjoy it!

It was an awkward ride back to headquarters, not in the least because Logan had insisted on driving Tony's very expensive sports car at insane speeds down the highway. That aside, of course, there was the angry silence hanging over everyone. Tony managed to keep his hands to himself, knowing Steve wouldn't let him do anything with Logan right there.

When they got to what had formerly been Stark Tower, Logan started to stalk off, but froze when he heard Stark call for him. "What?"

Tony glanced at Steve in a way that was somewhere between apologetic and mischievous. "You, uh... If you're not gonna be weirded out... I mean, if Steve doesn't..." He paused. He felt like his mind was working at two thousand miles an hour and that simple human speech wasn't enough to get it all out at once. "Wanna come with us?"

Logan was pretty sure that if he hadn't just taken his cigar out of his mouth to tell Stark to hurry up and finish talking, it would have fallen out. His next "What?" sounded less testy and more like he was sure he'd just started hallucinating.

At first Steve felt much the same way. His mouth fell open, and he looked so stereotypically shocked that it was comedic. His first instinct was to say that he was most definitely uncomfortable, but it was a knee jerk reaction. The truth was the more Steve thought about it, the hotter it actually sounded. He had been with men and women, but unlike Tony, he had never been with more than one person at once. After a nervous, silent moment of hesitation, he met Logan's gaze and offered, "I wouldn't mind... if you’re interested." He couldn't help but smile. "Could be fun."

Logan paused. //Well, if I'm gonna jump in, might as well with both feet.// "Alright." Stark wasn't exactly the guy he'd pick as the extra, but at least the man wasn't bad-looking.

"Good!" Tony smiled, moving a little closer to Steve and hooking a finger through one of the man's belt loops. He then approached Logan, one hand out, and tilted his head and raised an eyebrow as the man shied away. "C'mon, you're probably gonna need to be okay with me touching you. Or was making eye contact a challenge? Do I need to let you sniff my hand? Help me out, here."

Logan took another step back. "Y'know what, maybe I should just--"

In a move that was probably a little crazy even for him, Tony lunged forward, caught Logan by the collar of his leather jacket, and planted one of his best kisses on the man's lips, ignoring the now-familiar 'snikt' of Logan's claws. He felt powerful hands grip his waist, clearly intent on pushing him away.

It was several seconds before the feral mutant relaxed, his claws disappearing as he noticed that Stark wasn't half bad at this whole kissing thing, a low rumble echoing in his chest. Logan drew away, his normally bright blue eyes a few shades darker as he stared at the other man.

For a moment, Steve was sure that Tony was about to be eviscerated, but apparently Logan's instincts shifted quickly enough to keep him in one piece. The tension dissipated, and Steve just let himself enjoy the scene. Instead of jealous, he felt pure pleasure at the unmistakable desire between the two men. //Maybe I should have tried something like this sooner.// "Maybe we should take this to the bedroom," he suggested, walking up to the pair slowly. Logan didn't seem like the kind of guy to take by surprise no matter how lucky Tony might've gotten with the strategy. Instead he moved in with quiet purpose, one hand sliding around Logan's waist from behind so that he could press a kiss to the man's neck. "Nobody'll interrupt there."

The feeling of Steve's body pressed against his back and his lips against Logan’s neck combined with how close Tony was to him was almost enough to make Logan want to just start fucking right there in the garage. Steve had a point, though. There were probably security cameras everywhere in this building, and the last thing Logan wanted was to give long explanations to the guys in charge. "Yeah, got a point," he murmured, tilting his neck a little to give Steve easier access. Logan didn't really move, though, until Tony grabbed his jacket again and started towing him along.

"C'mon. Before we all lose patience and strip down naked. I think the good Director might have some bones to pick if I 'defile' his car again," Tony said with a faint smirk.

Logan's forehead creased in an amused, curious sort of way. "What did you... Wait. Forget it. I don't wanna know."

They all hurried together to the elevator and then up to Tony's room. They were breathless and eager like a bunch of teenagers about to do something they knew was against the rules, and honestly they probably were. Steve felt sure this fell under the "sexual misconduct" portion of their contract somehow, he just didn't particularly care. Rules were in place for a reason, but they didn't really have any place in the bedroom.

Steve couldn't quite resist grabbing Tony's ass as the man typed in the security code to open his locked suite. "Type faster," he ordered in his best commander voice before smiling and sliding one of his hands into Tony's back pocket to add an extra layer of distraction.

While Tony wouldn't have consciously listed 'being told what to do' as one of his turn-ons, Steve's commanding tone of voice certainly served to raise goosebumps on his skin and distract him from typing in the code right. It took him a few tries before he managed. "Third time's a charm," he muttered. Jarvis started to utter a greeting to them. "Jarvis, get lost for awhile."

"As you wish, sir. Gladly." The electronic panels in the room went dim.

Logan didn't take too much note of the random voice, figuring out easily that it was some sort of A.I. Besides, there were better things to focus on. He grabbed Steve and pulled the blonde into a long, eager kiss. When he withdrew, he grinned and opened his mouth to give the man a compliment when a blue glow caught his attention. "Woah... What the hell...?"

Having stripped down to slacks and a sleeveless undershirt, Tony grinned as he moved in on his companions once more. "The warm glow of my heart. Well, the thing that's keeping my heart from getting torn apart by shrapnel, at least. You might say I run on batteries. Oh, and it also powers the suit."

Curious, Logan kept his grip on Steve's waist but reached out to touch the device through Tony's tank top. He curiously slipped his fingers under the shirt. He'd only ever seen Stark in fancy suits that did a good job of hiding the miniaturized reactor. Of course, Logan couldn't help but note as he explored that Tony was in pretty amazing shape as well. His fingertips traced their way up to the faintly warm energy source, but then Tony shifted away a little, leaning in to press his lips to Steve's.

Logan had to rein in a bit of jealousy as the two kissed, this time mere breaths away from him. Refocusing the energy, the feral mutant leaned in to press his lips against Tony's throat as his hand grasped and squeezed at Steve's wonderfully toned ass.

Steve felt a rush of heat at the touch. As if it wasn't intimate enough kissing Tony after fantasizing about doing just that, now he also had a gorgeous guy feeling him up while he did it. Though the kiss remained oddly gentle despite its eagerness, Steve could feel the edge of control sliding through his fingers. There was no way he would be able to keep himself entirely in check - thankfully, at least one of his partners wasn't easy to bruise. With that in mind, Steve tore his mouth away from Tony's and turned his head to capture Logan's mouth with his own. He kissed the man with a desperate hunger that brought back memories of quick, messy trysts in too-narrow bunks.

Logan groaned, meeting Steve with an eagerness that matched the blonde's. Logan could feel some of the strength that Steve had at his disposal through that contact, and it was as impressive as it was arousing. The feral mutant realized then how much restraint Steve must have had to exercise to kiss Tony without hurting him and was grateful for his healing factor. //He could probably break Stark in half without even meaning to,// Logan thought as his hands tangled anxiously in Steve's shirt, and he made an effort to give as good as he got.

Tony relaxed and enjoyed the show for a moment. It was a definite turn-on to watch the two powerful men pressed so close to one another and slowly dropping all pretense of restraint. The bedroom was still several paces away, but Tony didn't really care. He was as happy fucking around on the floor or the kitchen table as anything. //Though the table might not handle all this,// he thought, pressing himself against Logan's side and giving the feral mutant a less-than-gentle bite on the neck. It was in part play, but he was also definitely starting to feel a little left out and wanted to take out his frustration on the guy who was distracting Steve.

Logan tensed, then grabbed Tony by the hair and pulled him in for a brief but aggressive kiss. "Just no hickies," he growled with an ironic smirk, then gave Tony a solid bite on the jaw.

To his credit, Tony didn't make a single sound at the bite, though he could tell he was going to need some concealer for it later. "Deal," he agreed, reaching around Logan to grab at Steve's belt, "but both of you are overdressed."

"You make a good point," Steve agreed with a bright smile. He could see the broken blood vessels blooming along Tony's jaw, and it was strangely enticing. As he unbuttoned his shirt, Steve couldn't resist the urge to press a gentle kiss to the spot followed by a quick flick of his tongue. His shirt fell behind him, and Steve discarded the belt that Tony had unfastened in the meanwhile. Taking hold of Logan's shirt, he tugged it upward until there was enough daylight between Tony and Logan for him to actually manage shimmying it off its owner. Logan was every bit as powerful underneath the shirt as he'd felt, and Steve happily ran his fingers through the dusting of hair covering the man's chest. 

Logan grinned a little, the touch raising pleasant goosebumps along his skin. He still couldn't remember anything new, but instincts told him that this wasn't a first time with another man for him. It felt too familiar, too comfortable. Steve was as awe-inspiring without his shirt as Logan would've guessed. The mutant didn't hesitate in reaching out to touch Steve's beautifully-developed torso, fingers tracing over strong muscles. Logan was leaning in for a kiss when he felt Tony press against his back, fingers sliding down his stomach and over the growing bulge in his jeans.

Tony grinned as Logan made a small sound of arousal. Or maybe it was a warning growl. Tony really wasn't going anywhere, either way. "Time to get those instincts revved up, eh, Cap?" His gaze met Steve's, and he gave the blonde his best seductive grin as he leaned in to nip at Logan's neck. If Tony were honest with himself, he knew he couldn't possibly withstand an unbridled fucking from either of the two men, but that just made it more interesting.

The mutant shifted appreciatively against Tony's fingers, refocusing enough to pull Steve in for another breathtaking kiss.

Steve silently resolved not to let Tony get hurt no matter what happened or how stupid he got as the blood flowed south. He was less worried about himself. In fact Steve found it absolutely exhilarating to think that he could give as good as he got with Logan and not worry that the man might get hurt. Despite being slightly less unbreakable himself, Steve knew he could take whatever Logan gave him. He drew back, breathless with the possibilities laid out before him. "Don't even know what I want to do first," he confessed. It was hard enough to choose with one partner after so long, but with two gorgeous men surrounding him, Steve was entirely at a loss.

"You could start with me," Tony offered as Logan dove in to raise a hickey on Steve's neck. The smallest of the three of them managed to wiggle between Logan and Steve.

Logan was about to growl at Stark to move it or lose it all when the man shifted back to rub his ass against Logan's cock. //Like that, is it?// Instinct easily overrode any higher emotions, and Logan placed steadying hands on Tony's waist.

"See? Enough for every--body," Tony pointed out, his voice cracking a bit as he heard a quiet 'snikt' and his undershirt was sliced off his back. From the pain, he also felt certain Logan had nicked him a bit in the process. "Jesus... You can definitely just ask me nicely next time," he groused.

"I don't really *do* nice," Logan growled in Stark's ear, grinding hard against Tony's ass and taking great satisfaction in hearing the man's heart-rate spike. He'd managed a shallow, six inch long cut across the other man's back, and he was honest enough to admit to himself it wasn’t entirely accidental.

Oblivious to the bloodshed but most definitely not to the sight of Tony half naked, Steve decided it was a good moment to let the boys figure it out for themselves. "S'pose there is plenty to share," he agreed, bright eyes dark in the shadowy room. He drew Tony into a lingering kiss to keep the man from saying anything else that he might regret later on. "Let's get in bed." While standing was working just fine for the preliminaries, Steve knew it would get awkward fast. Thinking ahead, he decided to go ahead and slip out of his jeans before reclining on the comforter with a hint of a smile and an obvious bulge tenting his boxers. "You boys going to join me?"

Tony grinned, stripping down to a pair of boxer briefs and following. He took a moment to stare at the creature he'd have easily believed was as much of a god as Thor before pouncing on the blonde. Fingers shaking with excitement-and perhaps a little disbelief-tangled in soft blonde locks as Tony pressed his lips to Steve's. His tongue danced eagerly against the other man's, darting over every plane and tasting every crevice.

Logan quickly dove into the fray after shedding his jeans, pressing himself against Steve's back. He slid a hand over one powerful thigh before his hand roamed upwards, fingers tracing the outline of Steve's cock as his breath puffed against the man's ear.

Steve moaned into Tony's mouth as Logan stroked him, the touch too delicate to provide any relief but just enough to make him want more. The kiss grew more frantic and less focused as Steve gave up any thoughts of trying to direct anything. His mind was racing, far too filled with want to bother with anything so intricate as planning who should be doing what to whom and when. Instead he kissed Tony like his life depended on it and wondered why he hadn't used it as a way to shut the man up months before. As it turned out, Tony's silver tongue had some promising practical applications.

Tony felt Steve losing a little of his careful control, felt the kiss turning almost bruising. He didn't care. He needed everything Steve had to offer. In truth, a fair part of the parade of women he'd had around lately had been to try and distract himself from what he really wanted. He couldn’t shake the worry about things going the way they had with Pepper. Impulsiveness had, as usual, won the day with Tony. It was too late to hold back. Drawing back to speak-and because he was pretty sure he'd lost circulation to his lips-he panted, "Touch me. Don't make me beg." Another pant. "Please."

Logan shifted, grinding his cock against Steve's perfect ass as his fingers dove down the front of the man's boxers, wrapping around the more than impressive length inside. The feral mutant groaned his appreciation, his teeth and tongue working at Steve's ear and neck as he stroked the weeping shaft.

Steve threw his head back against Logan's shoulder with a sigh as he let one hand trail down from the back of Tony's neck, over his chest - just grazing the arc reactor - and finally down over the hard planes of his stomach. Tony might not have any super strength helping him out in the fitness department, but nobody could ever call him a slouch. "Maybe I kinda like the idea of you begging," Steve answered in a husky whisper before he gave in and slid his hand into Tony's boxer briefs anyway. He palmed the man's cock and felt it jump against his warm hand. "Maybe the begging can come later."

Not above a little begging when it got what he wanted, Tony had already taken a breath to do just that when Steve's hand slid over his aching length. The blonde's voice, raspy with arousal, combined with his touch, served to drive that breath from Tony's lungs in a long, low moan. "Ohfuckyes," he breathed, one hand clutching at Steve's shoulder as he arched into the contact. The sting of the marks Logan had left on him were easily forgotten with the rush of sensation. Tony bit back the urge to tell Steve how much he'd needed this. He didn't want to see what effect that might have with Logan present. Instead, he leaned in and nuzzled Steve's throat, pressing a few kisses and bucking his hips against the man's hand in a silent plea.

Logan took the opportunity of Steve arching his head back to steal a quick kiss, lips working the lightly stubbled skin. He shoved Steve's boxers down to his knees and then used his feet to kick them away completely, then repeated the action for himself, leaving nothing between them as he let his heated cock nestle between Steve's buttocks. "Think I might like to see you fuck 'im," Logan finally growled.

The words alone made Steve groan. He wanted that too, almost desperately, but Steve still met Tony's gaze and tried to think clearly enough to ask if it was alright. Coherency eluded him for a moment as he stroked Tony's cock and felt Logan thrusting carefully against him. He shuddered and then smiled as he looked into Tony's eyes. "That okay with you? Because it would be really, really okay with me." He was fine with the idea of returning the favor afterward too, but they could talk about that when they were both able to form a more complex series of thoughts.

"Well, Cap, if it's an order..." Tony trailed off and grinned a little. He knew Steve was about as crazy about giving orders as Tony was about following them; it was just something they both had to do once in awhile. He leaned in and pressed a few fleeting kisses to Steve's neck. "What I mean is, be my guest."

Logan quietly wondered to himself if Tony ever actually shut up, but decided the visuals he was getting more than made up for the chatter. "Do it," he urged, his voice a rough growl in Steve's ear. Logan had his own plans for Steve, but discussion of that could wait.

It was sensory overload in the best of all possible ways being trapped between the two men. Steve fumbled with the nightstand drawer and was rewarded with the discovery of a mostly full bottle of lube and a box of condoms. Steve hesitated, ultimately deciding the decision was up to Tony. He nodded toward the box. "Would you like me to wear one? I can't actually catch anything, so I can't actually give you anything, but..." He knew it was the norm and wanted Tony to feel comfortable even if he vastly preferred the idea of there being absolutely nothing between them. 

Tony wasn't exactly the best about wearing protection when he should. When he didn't *have* to? He wasn't about to consider it. "Well, since nobody here can catch anything from anyone else here, I'm really all about keeping this from being any more complicated than it has to be," he replied, grabbing the box and heaving it across the room for emphasis. "I think we can do without." He started to lean in for a kiss, but Logan moved first.

The feral mutant growled impatiently, tangling his hand in soft blonde strands and tugging Steve's head back to bite at the man's throat while his other hand mauled one perfect buttock, allowing his aching cock to press closer to Steve's entrance. Blue eyes glittered with animal aggression as he drew back to give Steve some room to move.

Momentarily mesmerized and simultaneously unnerved by that stare, Tony hesitated a moment before leaning in and gently kissing the tall blonde, his hand running over that magnificent chest as he shifted closer. "Any way you want me," he breathed.

It didn't a rocket scientist to piece together what Logan wanted, and Steve was all for it. The sound of Tony's voice drew his attention away again. His breath caught at the look on the man's face as their lips met again. "Like this. I want to see you." He was willing to allow that involving a third person might not be the most romantic, subtle way to start things, but he at least wanted to look into Tony's eyes. Realizing he'd never let go of the lube to start with, Steve quickly coated his fingers with the cool, slippery liquid before letting one finger tease at Tony's entrance. He doubted Logan would be particularly pleased if he dragged his feet, but Steve wasn't about to rush either. Hot, dirty, and kinky were all just fine by him - painful wasn't. Gently the single digit slipped inside, and Steve wasn't surprised to find the slide easy even though they were just starting out. Leaning down, he pressed Tony back against the bed and set about kissing and nipping at the man's exposed neck. "Tell me when you're ready for more, and you'll get it."

Tony moaned softly, squirming underneath Steve's powerful form. It was a definite turn-on to know that Steve could have probably broken him in half but chose to be incredibly gentle. Tony met the other man's eyes and felt a slight shiver go through him entirely apart from his arousal. He tried not to think about it, not quite ready to let emotion lead in the encounter, even as he was starting to realize his interest in getting his fellow Avenger into bed had been more than hormonal. "Feels good," he managed, his voice faintly shaky as he shifted against the touch. Managing to regain his wits a little bit, Tony wrapped his fingers around Steve's cock and stroked slowly. "You can gimme more... Please..." It wasn't like him to be so polite in bed, but Tony was painfully aware of his position when it came to who was the strongest of them, and he kind of liked deferring control for once.

For all his impatience, even Logan could take a minute to enjoy the view the two were presenting. Both men were incredibly fit, looked absolutely perfect together. The eerie glow of the arc reactor only served to highlight the perfect curves of muscles, the beads of sweat clinging to their skin. Logan found himself moving closer to them again. He stretched out beside Tony, fingertips tracing the outline of one pec before he reached lower to begin stroking the man's cock, drawing a low moan of pleasure from him.

Steve couldn't help but smile as he watched Logan settle in as well. As the muscular mutant began to explore Tony's cock, Steve carefully slid another finger home. He gave the billionaire a moment to adjust to the invasion before twisting the digits and spreading them. He loved watching Tony's face flush and hearing the way his breath hitched. It was something he'd worried about before when he had found himself having distinctly more-than-friendly thoughts about his friend: how easily he could become addicted to those sounds and sights. With the exception of his brief relationship with Pepper, Tony wasn't exactly known for repeat performances. Steve wasn't sure he could stand this being a one time only deal. He squelched the fear in favor of enjoying the now and bent over to press a kiss to Logan's shoulder as the man leaned toward Tony.

Logan grinned briefly at Steve before returning his attention to Tony, watching the man squirm with the almost same amount of interest as the blonde next to him. He gave up a low growl as Tony's fingers tangled tightly into his hair, resisting a bit before settling into the hold and allowing the smaller man to pull him into a heated kiss.

Tony moaned against Logan's mouth, writhing between the pair as the dual assault overwhelmed his senses. He drew away from Logan, panting as his eyes met Steve's. "Jesus... ‘s'amazing," he murmured, gasping softly when Logan nipped at his throat a little too hard, then moaning a second later.

"It's only gonna get better," Steve promised. He used Tony's distraction as the perfect moment to slide a third finger inside his body. The more Tony groaned and writhed, the more impatient he grew, but waiting would be worth it when he finally slid home. Just the thought of that tight, hot ass around his cock and Tony's muscular legs wrapped around him drew a groan from Steve. He was kissing the man's neck aimlessly just to keep some sort of focus on the moment. Shifting so that his lips were against Tony's ear, he murmured, "I can't wait to be inside you." 

Tony moaned helplessly at those words, arching under his two partners as one hand tangled in the sheets, his short fingernails snagging lightly in the bedsheets. He groaned almost pitifully as Logan's hand fell away from his cock and the man rolled to one side, but then tangled his hands in Steve's hair and dragged him into a starved kiss. His body arched against the taller man's, and he groaned anxiously. "Do it," he breathed, shivering slightly. "Please."

Logan watched intently, content for the moment to give the two some space for a moment.

For a moment Steve glanced up at Logan, smiling lopsidedly at him, unable to keep from sharing the shaky elation of the moment. He met Tony's gaze in the next heartbeat and held it. With one hand braced against the bed, Steve carefully guided himself toward the other man's twitching hole. The muscle protested, tried to force him out, and then gave all at once. The larger man pushed harder and slowly slid home, inch by agonizingly slow inch, unwilling to rush even for a second. "You feel so good... so good, Tony," Steve murmured as he moved. Finally his cock was fully sheathed inside the other man's body, and Steve paused to let them both catch their breath.

Tony had to remind himself to take in oxygen when Steve was finally buried fully within him. The blonde was definitely bigger than anyone Tony had been with before, and it was painful and blindingly good all at once to have the man's shaft buried fully within him. "...fuck," he finally managed, his voice weak with pleasure. Without a thought, Tony wrapped his legs around Steve's waist, his hands sliding over the blonde's muscled back and powerful shoulders as Tony squirmed invitingly under Steve's weight.

Tony obviously had no need for a slow pace and no desire to have any sort of control. That was both good and bad. It had been awhile, and being with Tony was good on so many levels that Steve found himself at a loss to take a breather when he needed to. "You feel perfect," he moaned, finally starting to move in earnest: slow, deep strokes that left him aching for more.

Logan took several moments to stare at Steve's powerful form tangled with Tony's lean-muscled body, the blonde with his lips parted beautifully, the billionaire with his dark hair mussed and sweat dampened, a few curls clinging to his damp skin. Then he couldn't resist anymore. Logan moved in again, letting his own aching shaft press against Tony's hip as the feral mutant teased Steve's ass crack with his fingertips. He had no intention of hampering the blonde, but Logan fully intended to have what he saw as his share before it was all said and done.

The move was enough to divert Steve's attention momentarily. He looked back at Logan, dazed, and found himself nodding as if the man couldn't read consent in the way he gasped at the touch. Though he wasn't about to stop moving inside of Tony, the duel stimulation was anything but unpleasant. It was wonderful. It was hard to picture anything being as sexy as Tony coming undone beneath him, but the thought of what he and Logan could do to one another without even being sore the next morning had some serious potential as well.

Tony vaguely registered the interaction, noting Logan's renewed proximity and the way Steve's movements became momentarily distracted. The billionaire didn't need enhanced senses to notice the hungry stare Logan gave the blonde. He felt a sharp spike of arousal combined with a tremor of jealousy at the idea of Steve and Logan going at each other. The idea of the feral mutant tearing into the super soldier was a powerful turn on, but Tony couldn't deny a bit of worry that Steve might want someone more on his level in the end. His hands roamed over the Steve's body hungrily, feeling every shift of the finely tuned muscle beneath flawless skin. If this was a one-time deal, he was going to enjoy it to the fullest. That in mind, Tony leaned up and nipped at the blonde's lightly-stubbled throat, licking a trickle of sweat from the skin.

In the meantime, Logan had no doubts to match Stark's. The shift in Steve's scent, the little skip in his pulse, the slight change in his posture: one of it escaped Logan's animal keen senses. The feral mutant knew now that he'd get what he wanted, and the animal side of him couldn't have been more content or confident. The idea of a chance at fucking someone who was his equal was an exciting and uncommon prospect, and he fully intended to take the opportunity. Logan let his fingers slip further between Steve's buttocks, slowly stroking at the man's opening.

Steve let out a shaky breath against Tony's neck as they moved together. He had never been faced with the difficulty of split attention that presented itself with two partners present. Somehow it felt as much like a benefit as a hindrance, though, and Steve let Logan work as he focused himself on making Tony feel amazing. The playboy had plenty of experience - enough that Steve was willing to bet that it would be hell trying to find a place in his top ten list. Instead he worried about impressing upon Tony that he was taken care of in more ways than one. He had no idea what the protocol would be for the morning after with the three of them, but he would just as soon wake to find them in a happy, sated pile come sunlight.

Logan pressed in close to Steve, closing the distance between them as much as he could without getting in the way of the blonde's steady thrusts. As Logan slowly pushed his finger into Steve's waiting entrance, he gave Steve a few good, hard bites on the shoulder.

Tony couldn't help but feel a little bit agitated at the sight of Logan biting into the blonde's perfect skin. Not that Tony had any delusions that Steve might not recover or that Tony had any chance of protecting him, but the possessive move rankled his nerves in a way that he wasn't quite able to understand yet. Willing to make a competition out of it, Tony leaned up and began working the blonde's throat in earnest, licking and nipping as his fingers found their way to one pert nipple and began to slowly tease the sensitive nub. "You feel amazing," he murmured against sweat-slick skin. He wanted Steve to enjoy himself as much as possible, and focusing on Steve let Tony forget the nagging pain of the 'scrape' Logan had left on his back.

Steve couldn't help but agree with the assessment. Tony felt amazing wrapped around him, and the sheer pleasure of that mingling with the harsh pain of the bites and the intrusive thrill of Logan's finger working him open all combined to make him feel dizzy. It was too much. He also didn't want it to stop for a second. Steve let his head fall forward, exposing the flesh of his shoulders gladly to Logan. 

Thankful that he wasn't quite as pure and innocent as his friends seemed to think he was, Steve forced his eyes open so he didn't miss a thing. Any blushing virgin would have been finished already, and after a long - decades long, he supposed - dry spell, Steve was proud of himself for holding out so well. Keeping his pace achingly slow helped. It also drew out the pleasure of Tony's muscles rippling around him. "You're beautiful," he whispered, the words slipping out before he could think that they might be the wrong thing to say. 

It occurred to Tony distantly that it was an oddly affectionate compliment, but he was too focused on the present situation to really analyze it in-depth. The genius could multitask at a lot of things, but when it came to sex, he had an uncharacteristic degree of focus. Besides which, Tony could feel his climax nearing, and one hand reached down to wrap around his own cock as he watched Steve's face. The man's fair skin, flushed with arousal and exertion... his face fixed in an expression of arousal... his full lips parted with pleasure... Steve looked like the archetype for every Greek god that had ever been thought up. //And I get to play with him,// Tony reflected, smiling briefly only to have the expression wiped away as another wave of arousal surged through him. "Fuck..." he gasped, tensing.

Logan could sense that both men were nearing their mutual ends, and the anticipation made the feral mutant's pulse pound a little faster. Soon, he'd have what he wanted; soon, he'd be able to drag Steve down to the mattress and fuck him with all the animal passion that he usually restrained.

Normally Steve might have tried to swat Tony's hand out of the way, but as it was, he couldn't bear to let go of his hold on Tony's hip. Coupled with that was the fact that Tony looked sinfully gorgeous stroking himself, and soon Steve was gasping out a warning that the end was close. Feeling the heat of Logan pressed in against him, Steve let his eyes flutter closed for just a moment. He savored every sensation surrounding him, let it wash over him as he finally began to move more quickly. His hips snapped forward faster, though Steve remained ever mindful not to squeeze too hard or move too fast. If he hurt Tony through losing control, he would never forgive himself - besides, the last thing he wanted to do was kill the mood when everything felt so good. Steve shuddered and buried his face in Tony's neck as he finally came with a gasp that sounded suspiciously like the billionaire's name.

Tony could feel the barely-contained power behind Steve's every move. It was a thrill in and of itself, and that combined with the feel of Steve's cock sliding home over and over again left Tony cumming between them only moments before his partner. He cried out without restraint, overwhelmed by the power of his orgasm. Finally partially catching his breath, Tony offered Steve a cocky smirk. "You're definitely America's superso-"

Logan wasn't in the mood to let the two chit-chat. Pillow talk could wait. The mutant shoved Steve onto his back and pounced on him in one smooth motion, almost too fast for an ordinary person to track. Logan tangled one powerful hand into soft blonde hair and dragged Steve into a demanding kiss, holding back nothing as he ground himself against the taller man.

It took Tony a moment to fully register what had happened. His gaze fixed on the two men tangled together beside him, and he felt a cross of fascination and jealousy all at once. The idea of seeing Steve uninhibited was definitely enticing, but knowing that it couldn't be him on the other end of it was more than a bit of a blow to the self-styled playboy.

Steve was breathless by the time Logan gave him even a second to recover. He was still boneless and blissed out from his climax and it actually took him a minute to register everything that had happened in such quick succession. When it caught up with him, Steve couldn't help but smile at the look of hunger on Logan's face. He reached up and pulled the man down again, the kiss crushing and harsh and kind of amazing. He wasn't going to hurt Logan - or if he did the man would heal just as quickly as he could himself. It was heady and strange to think that neither one of them needed to be cautious or careful.

Logan groaned, his fingers digging into the sheets to try and get traction as he savored the contact, groaning and growling for all he was worth. He'd felt the slight hesitation in the blonde as he'd regained his wits, but Steve was as strong as Logan had hoped for, and the animal inside him revelled in meeting an equal. Fucking and fighting were separated by a very thin line for the feral mutant, and having no reason to hold back made the line that much more blurry. That, and it had been a damned long time since Logan had had a good roll.

An eager hand drifted down Steve's side to his knee, hooking the limb up a bit before sliding back up. Rough fingertips again slipped between the blonde's ass cheeks, one lightly grazing his entrance before pushing insistently inside. Logan placed a few more bites on Steve's throat and rumbled his pleasure as he anticipated what it would be like to finally be inside that perfectly tight heat. The feral mutant was beyond words, beyond much more than doing and feeling and exploring every inch of the powerful man beneath him.

Tony winced a little as the two virtually attacked each other. It was a visceral sight, and Tony found himself wanting to participate and yet genuinely convinced that doing so might result in serious injury. He settled for the moment for just watching, wondering again how smart it had been to bring Logan into the Avengers or into his bed.

It hurt, it did, but not enough for Steve to want Logan to stop or even slow down. He caught his breath in uneasy pants instead and clutched at Logan's shoulders. "Little lube might be nice," he observed, knowing that enhanced healing or not he'd regret it soon enough if there wasn't something to ease the way. Logan was even less talkative than seemed to be his norm, but Steve didn't mind. What they were doing required more action than words. It had taken all of a few seconds for Logan to established who was topping. Steve had no protest with that either. It had been a long time since he had a strong man willing to take charge with him. It was one thing being all but a walking sign that screamed "SUB!" when he was younger, but Captain America was apparently always supposed to top, and Steve preferred a bit more variety on his sexual menu. 

Logan didn't seem to hear the words, shifting to let his cock press against the other man's entrance a bit more insistently. As he did so, a small bottle of lube bounced off the side of his head.

"You heard him, Hairball." Tony was pretty sure Steve could take care of himself, but that didn't stop the billionaire from wanting to make sure the show he was getting didn't get unpleasantly interrupted because Logan was too far out of touch with humanity to not be a dick. The withering glare he got from the mutant was almost enough to make Tony wish he'd just let the two fight it out.

The interruption seemed to have jarred enough sense into Logan, though, to make sure he complied with the request as he refocused on his partner. Steve's almost nervous breaths were hard to tune out long enough for the feral mutant to slick some of the provided lube over the blonde's twitching entrance. It was incredible how much of a turn-on the sound of that powerful heart and the scent of Steve's sweat were. Finally tossing the lube bottle aside, Logan hooked his hips forward and began slowly penetrating the blonde, groaning as sensation began to overwhelm once more.

The response was so fast and sure that Steve hadn't even found a breath to thank Tony for his intervention when Logan was driving into him. He cried out, shocked but not at all displeased by the sudden entry. The burning edge of pain only made it that much more intense, and he would have been lying if he said he wanted anything but intense from a man like Logan. Anything else would have been sorely disappointing. Spots swam behind his tightly-clenched eyelids. Steve fought for breath and finally found it, sucking air in deeply and opening his eyes to find Logan's mouth again. The hungry kiss was a perfect way to get the man to settle for a second to let him adjust, and it sparked a perfect flicker of pleasure through the pain. 

Logan froze, pressing into the kiss with passion to match Steve's. He wanted to simply pin the man down and wildly fuck him until they both lost their minds, but a sliver of rationality kept him in control enough to instead savor the intensity of the way Steve's passage clenched around him. He drew Steve's tongue into his mouth, sucking on it for a moment before thrusting his own tongue in to taste the other man more fully. "Need you," he growled as he broke away from the kiss, the words almost lost in the animalistic rumble of his voice. He began slowly pressed in deeper as if testing to see if Steve was ready for it. 

For his part, Tony was awestruck. He realized after a moment that he wasn't really breathing as he anticipated the next move. //Gonna have enough fap fodder for the rest of my life right here// he reflected with a faint smirk as he reached down to touch his cock. He wondered idly if Steve was any good at oral and resolved to find out.

"Got me," Steve murmured, finally shifting his hips, silently encouraging the man to move. He was adjusted - or at least close enough to adjusted - and impatience was quickly setting in. The look of intent lust in Logan's eyes promised that the best was yet to come, and Steve didn't want to wait anymore. A flicker of movement to his side drew Steve's gaze back to Tony. He focused in on the man's hardening cock for a second before looking up into Tony's dark eyes with a teasing smile. "I can help with that," he offered, voice a few notches deeper than normal. 

Tony grinned and moved in closer, kneeling beside Steve's head. He was about to offer his cock to the man when Logan pushed him back. He opened his mouth to protest, but something in Logan's eyes stopped him.

The feral mutant drew away from Steve, groaning a small protest as his cock slipped from the man's body. He flipped Steve onto his stomach and then urged him onto his hands and knees. His gaze moved back to Tony. "Now.." he said with a tilt of his head.

It didn't take much of Tony's incredible intellect to figure out what Logan meant. He grinned again and settled in front of the blonde, his hand tangling in Steve's hair to guide him closer to his waiting cock. He was anxious to see those beautiful lips wrapped around his aching length.

Logan wasted no more time, quickly plunging into Steve's tight heat once again. His hand clamped tight on Steve's hip as he used the leverage to bury himself fully in that tight, clenching tract.

At first Steve had been more than a little annoyed at the pause. He didn't want Logan to stop, and he didn't want Tony to stop either - and then it all clicked into place. Apparently he had just enough blood above his beltline to put it together because Steve hummed his approval as the head of Tony's cock slid between his lips and Logan began to move once more. He was definitely beginning to see the appeal of threesomes. Keeping track of two lovers at a time instead of one was difficult, but it was also rewarding enough to be worth the effort. Every nerve in Steve's body tingled with sensation, and even when he could hardly catch his breath, he didn't want it to end.

Tony almost immediately forgot about Logan pushing him around when Steve's mouth closed over his cock. He let out a long, hissing breath and allowed his head to thump back against the headboard. Regaining his composure a little, he lifted it again and groaned as he watched the beautiful blonde's lips slide along the length of his overheated cock. His fingers tangled in silky hair as he thrust into Steve's hot mouth.

Logan was tired of holding back and had the feeling that Steve was tired of it too. He drew back and then slammed his cock home with all his might, relishing the freedom his partner's resilience offered. As Logan set a perfectly hungry rhythm, his gaze wandered to Tony's face, and the intent look of pleasure there only served to send Logan further into a frenzy. The feral mutant growled his pleasure as he took what he wanted.

Steve's breath came harsh and fast through his nose as he tried to gain control of himself. Logan's thick cock made him burn in the sweetest possible way. Pain and tension were forgotten in the rush of pleasure as the man's hips jerked and hit exactly the perfect spot. A cry of ecstasy came out as a weak moan since opening his lips wider would have meant pulling away from Tony’s cock.   
Tony groaned as Logan's every forward thrust seemed to drive his cock further down Steve's throat. "G... God, you're good at this," he panted, his legs tensing and his free hand tangling in the bed sheets as he struggled for some kind of control. He knew he wouldn't last long; the whole situation was too intense for him to maintain any sort of restraint.

Logan could feel the edge drawing near as well. Soft groans of pleasure turned into harsh grunts as he started thrusting faster, and he soon came with a howl of pleasure that he made no effort to restrain.

Tony followed soon after, though far more quietly, gasping softly as he shot his release into Steve's mouth.

It was absolutely overwhelming in the best sense of the word. Steve reached down and gave his own cock a few quick jerks. The oversensitive flesh protested but not enough to keep him from coming again as he sucked down the evidence of Tony's release. Steve was thankful for the harsh grip of Logan's hands keeping him from collapsing unceremoniously onto the mattress. As it was, he cursed softly but appreciatively and pressed a lazy kiss to Tony's hip. 

Logan drew away and collapsed on the bed next to the pair, panting heavily and looking pleased with himself. Not the sort for words, he settled for giving Steve a sweaty slap on the shoulder.

Tony grabbed Steve and pulled the larger man up against himself, heedless of the fact that the blonde was probably a little too heavy to comfortably support. //Worth it even if my arm does fall asleep.// He gently ran his fingers through Steve's hair, smiling at him in a way that was a little uncharacteristically warm. "That was good," he decided, pretty sure he could hear Logan rolling his eyes beside them.

"That's an understatement," Steve answered with a smile before lifting his head long enough to look at the other man's face. "I didn't know you made those." Exhaustion soon made him drop his head back against Tony's shoulder. He shifted his weight to the side to keep from crushing Tony but couldn't give up the contact. It didn't surprise him that Logan wasn't one for cuddling. It did surprise him that Tony was. Thankfully it was a pleasant surprise. "Mmm... your arm okay?"

"I'll build myself a new one if it falls off," Tony decided, but wiggled a little to get his arm into a position that would allow some blood flow.

"You got that philosophy about everything that's attached to ya?" Logan wanted to know, though his tone conveyed more good-natured ribbing than out-and-out hostility.

"Well, I can't grow things back. Speaking of which..." Tony sat up and turned his back towards Steve, wincingly touching at the gash Logan had left in his back. "Does this look like it needs stitches? I really hate stitches."

Logan had nearly forgotten about the injury he'd inflicted on the other man. It was clean, of course, but it was also pretty deep. Logan had to admit, Tony had done a good job of not letting the injury get to him. //Buuuut I'm gonna get an ass-chewin' for this one...//

Steve's eyes widened at the sight of the gash. "Tony!" He reached out, fingers brushing along the edge of the marred flesh. His eyes widened at the sight of the wound only to narrow as he looked back at Logan. "Not everybody here can heal as quickly as we can." Teeth grinding together it was all Steve could do not to yell, but he didn't want to make the situation worse than it already was. A leader needed to be calm. Losing his head wouldn't help - or at least not as much as he would have liked. It wouldn't undo the damage. Steve tore his gaze away from Logan to fix on Tony. "Does it hurt much? I hate to say it, but stitches would probably be a good idea."

"Hey, look, he was the one who flinched. Wouldn't've nicked him if he'd held still," Logan groused.

"I'm fine," Tony said, standing and heading for the bathroom. He would have liked a shower but figured that getting the injury wet probably wouldn't help, so he took a washcloth to the funkier parts of himself. "I'll go get this stitched up. You guys relax."

"See? He's fine," Logan said as Tony started searching for some decent clothes.

Tony picked up a shirt, started to pull it on, then reconsidered when he tried to raise his arms above his head. "Y'know, this didn't hurt as much a few minutes ago. Maybe I should take some aspirin. Or gin."

Logan sighed and rolled out of the bed, tugging on his pants, then looking around the room. He hadn't really paid much attention to it when they'd arrived, but his senses quickly led him to the beer hidden in Tony's bar. He popped the lid of the bottle he'd found and looked at Steve. "So, we gonna take him to the infirmary, or can he take himself?"

"We're taking him," Steve answered firmly. Though very few forces on earth could have persuaded him to divulge what had happened between the three of them over the course of the evening, it wasn't as if anyone would put that together from them simply showing up in the same place at the same time. "Did you have a specific place in mind?" he asked Tony, sure that the man had some private physician he could be whisked away to with minimal invasiveness from the press.

Tony started to answer the could just head up to one of the R&D floors and get them to use the latest bio-foam or skin glue or whatever the biologists had pulled out of their asses, then realized that something like that would have to be explained to people. //And I hate having to explain myself.// "Jarvis?"

"Sir?" The AI almost sounded wary.

"Do we still have Doc Khieu on payroll?"

"We do, sir. It's a little late, though--"

"He'll understand. Give 'im a call."

There was a disagreeable pause before the computer finally said, "Very well, sir."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Did I imagine it, or was that thing givin' you attitude?"

"Jarvis is programmed to be more human so people are more comfortable interacting with him," Tony explained. "And, y'know, I need someone who I can irritate without driving them away forever."

Logan looked around the room as if subconsciously expecting to see some visible manifestation of the AI in question. "So, basically, you're tellin' me you gotta build your friends?"

"I prefer to think of it as playing God. Jarvis?"

"I believe the good doctor has a few choice words to share with you, sir, but I have managed to negotiate an appointment a half hour from now."

"Bribery. Excellent." Tony stood and gingerly pulled on a baggy t-shirt with Steve’s help. "Shall we?"

The drive was a quiet one except for Tony's usual stream of mostly inappropriate observations. Steve appreciated the chatter in a way since it distracted him somewhat from being furious. He was mad at Logan for hurting Tony and mad at himself for not being more careful to start with - not to mention not noticing that Tony was hurt. By the time they'd been in to see Tony's doctor and the wound had been both stitched up and pronounced in a rather annoyed tone by the doctor to be "not that bad," Steve was almost over being angry and had moved on to uncertainty and self recrimination. The silence that began to stretch out uncomfortably in the car was broken by his cell phone ringing. Steve picked up at once when he saw that it was Director Fury. He opened his mouth to greet the man politely, but was promptly cut off.

"Do you have any IDEA what kind of PR nightmare this is, Captain?"

Steve blinked, momentarily lost as to just how the director could have found out about the evening so quickly. "Sir? I'm not sure what-"

"Your little dance floor session is all over the internet. Put me on speakerphone. Stark is there, isn't he?"

"Uh, yes, sir, but-"

"Put me on speakerphone."

Steve winced and complied, laying the phone on his thigh. "Sir, I really don't-"

"And I believe that, but, Mr. Stark, I know you were aware of exactly how many people probably had their cell phones out at the club earlier."

Having only caught the last sentence of the conversation, Tony couldn't know for sure what was up, but he had a fair idea. Still, he wasn't above pushing Fury's buttons. "Cellphones, I'm not so sure, but I know I saw a few iPads. Those're hard to mi-"

"Stark, do you know how much of YouTube I've had to delete tonight? At least five different videos and god-knows-how-many copies of you two sucking face on the dancefloor, and I--"

"Nick, I wasn't aware that SHIELD had something against me kissing boys."

"We don't, you insubordinate jackass, but you two are drawing entirely too much attention to yourselves. The last thing I need is to have to run off the Enquirer and Star Magazine. Bad enough Vanity Faire and CNN are always-"

"So, you need us to keep a lower profile?"

"Yes!"

"Have you met me? Maybe we should take that big A off the building..."

"STARK!"

"Hey, at least I had my clothes on." He glanced at his two passengers. "I had my clothes on, right?" Tony looked back at the phone on Steve's thigh. "Hey, I know no one's surprised by anything I do anymore, so if you're gonna get all butthurt that America's golden child likes men, I think this could turn a lot uglier, dear Director. I'll loan you some of my PR guys. I'm sure they can spin it." Without waiting for a reply, he reached over and shut off Steve's cellphone.

Logan crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "So... can't wait to meet that guy. He seems like fun."

Steve let out a long, slow breath. Tony had been trying to shut Fury up, but the truth was that he had a point. Tony doing lewd things in public was nothing new. Fury was mad at him. For once he'd let himself relax and have some fun without thinking about anyone's image - including his own - and it hadn't even taken a whole night for it to bite him in the ass. He supposed that for Fury and a lot of other people, his sexual orientation was a foregone conclusion. Captain America had to be straight. Steve rubbed his forehead as if it might ease away the growing sense of disappointment that the whole incident was even considered an incident. "If it had been Natasha, he wouldn't have called, would he?"

With his own odd sense of chivalry, Tony couldn't help but try and calm Steve down. "Sure he would've. I mean, she's kinda Barton's thing, right? I mean, as much as she is anyone's. The whole affair thing and cheating sensat-"

Logan was a little less inclined to wax over the truth, though, "The Cap can't be gay - or bi - as far as those government suits are concerned. I mean, you're the Red, White, 'n' Blue incarnate. Blonde hair, blue eyes, devout Christian, non-drinking, non-smoking, non-dancing, goody-two-shoes representative o' the whole nation." He shrugged. "They're just pissed that they lost the last superhero that even the radical far right could get behind. You'll get used to it. I have. 'Course, I'm sure Tony's pet spin doctors can come up with somethin'...”

Of course, Tony's mind was already going a mile a minute. "Who else knows you can't get drunk? I mean, that's not common knowledge, right? I think we can blame it on the alcohol. Jarvis?"

A panel in the car, previously hidden, lit up. "Sir?"

"Make a note for the PR guys. Think up a way to blame it on the alcohol without making Steve look like a complete lush, and send Fury some kind of an apology and notes on my ideas. Make it sound sincere... ish."

"Of course, sir. I'm sure this will calm him right down." The panel blinked out.

"Better a dumb, drunk moment, right?" Tony pushed a button to roll the top down as they cruised slowly toward the Avengers headquarters.

"No, it's not," Steve answered. He knew that Tony was trying to diffuse the situation. It was a noteworthy thing since he knew it was entirely for his benefit. It was sweet, but it was also completely wrong. "Tony, I'm not going to hide who I am. If my sexuality is more important than what I've done and what I believe, then... then people might as well stop liking me now," he finished resolutely. Logan was right - SHIELD had some very definite reasons to want to cover up him being anything less than perfection. Unfortunately that meant walking on eggshells in a way that Steve just wasn't sure would work in a world so addicted to finding reasons to pull people off of pedestals. Another thought struck him, and Steve found himself studying Tony's face with growing unease. There was also the possibility he was being naive in thinking his own sexuality was the only thing at issue. "Unless... you'd rather people not know... about us?"

"Jarvis, cancel the drunk excuse. Steve, I think Joe Public knows about everyone else I've kissed, so I'm not worried about what other people know," Tony explained. Really, it barely mattered anymore. As far as his social life was concerned, the most shocking thing Tony could think of would probably be met with an adoring grin, shrug of the shoulders, and a comment along the lines of "That's Tony Stark!" At least, as far as most people were concerned. Fury seemed able to get his eyepatch in a twist no matter how many times Tony managed to push the bounds of human decency. //Or inhuman decency,// he reminded himself, flicking a look at Logan.

Logan shook his head and suppressed a faint grin. Stark was as deeply apathetic toward societal norms as the press would have everyone believe. He wondered, though, what Steve thought "us" meant. The guy was, naturally, old-fashioned in a lot of his worldview, and Stark clearly didn't know the meaning of the word "commitment." //Then again, I don't exactly have a great track record in that department.//

Steve let himself relax and smiled at how easily Tony had accepted the words and taken action. "Okay, good," he answered with a sigh, wondering what kind of fallout would be facing them the next morning. He suspected it would be a long week. Possibly a very, very long week. The idea made Steve wince, but it had to be done. He didn't want to spend his life hiding who he was and what he wanted to make anyone else happy. Being polite in public and treating people well, those were basic skills of proper behavior. Lying and hiding and putting on a false face was something else altogether. If the public intended to tear him apart for his orientation, Steve preferred the idea of getting it over with quickly. "I guess we should get back and get some rest while we still can. If Fury's this upset, he's bound to not be the only one." 

"He'll be the one doing the most yelling, though." Tony shrugged. "Look on the bright side; the LGBT community has a new hero."

"Good point. Up to now, the best they could do was Bobby Drake, the professional metrosexual," Logan pointed out from the back seat as they rolled down the underground ramp into the Avengers' garage.

Tony parked the car and climbed out. "Anyway, you'll be fine. Time Magazine'll do some provocative, artistically challenged, exceedingly flamboyant magazine cover about how open-minded America is, then the latest American Idol star will do something tragically stupid and it'll never be spoken of again." Tony shrugged, stepping onto the elevator and pushing the button for his floor. "Uh... you guys staying with me, or...?"

Logan hesitated a moment, then pushed another button. "Think I'll stay in my room. Your talking walls weird me out."

"Jarvis is built into the entire building, you know."

"I ain't plannin' to invite 'im to make me a cup o' Earl Grey," Logan replied as he slipped out of the elevator on his floor. "You might."

Tony seemed indifferent, stuffing his hands into his pockets as the elevator continued to move. "What about you?" he asked his remaining companion.

Steve hesitated. He wondered if there was a wrong answer. He wanted to go without question, but he wasn't sure if Tony wanted him to go. The more he thought about it, the more tired he felt. Finally he answered, "I wouldn't mind the company if you don't." It was less romantic than what he might have liked to say, but it was the best he felt he could do. Even when Tony had been with Pepper, he wasn't exactly touchy feely or romantic in a traditional sense. For the first time Steve found himself wondering if they had a chance in hell of meeting in the middle. //It is way too late to be finally considering that.//

"Hmm... big, gorgeous blonde teddy bear to cuddle all night?" Tony tugged Steve close and pressed a steamy kiss to the taller man's lips, heedless of the security cameras he knew were in the elevator. "I think I'm alright with that." The elevator slid to a halt, and Tony more or less dragged his companion to his suite. "But gotta sleep. Not up for more fooling around. Yet." Tony practically walked out of his clothes and into the bedroom, flopping into the massive bed and holding his arms out. "Hold me? Kinda cold in here."

Steve couldn't help but smile at the visual. He even managed to bite back any scolding about Tony being careless with his fresh stitches. Instead he stripped down to his boxers and happily curled up next to the man. //Maybe things aren't going to be as complicated as I thought.//


	5. To the Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Action, rescues, some hurt/comfort, and then some flirting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No smut, no hardcore adult content, but there is mutant trafficking, so if that's a touchy subject for you, proceed with caution.
> 
> And for those who watched the Invisible Man TV series... yes, that Darien Fawkes. I bastardized him for purposes of the story. You'll see a lot more of him in the next chapter. I regret nothing.

Reviewing Logan's file had taken almost more time than putting out fires with the media. Coulson rapped firmly on the man's door. At least he wasn't likely to be hungover. He wasn't sure how much that would help, but it wasn't likely to hurt. By all accounts Logan was just as adverse to authority as Tony. Coulson wondered how in the world Captain America ended up palling around with the two most difficult men in their keeping and decided to file away that concern for later. 

Logan was enjoying sleeping in for the first time in forever when the knock came. He managed to make himself pull on some loose-fitting boxer shorts before dragging himself to the door. He could detect Coulson's aftershave and the faint hint of old cards and comic books on the guy before he even opened the door. //Why did I sign up for this gig again?// he wondered to himself, pretty sure the other shoe was about to drop. He opened the door, looking less than thrilled. "So's this the part where you guys tell me I gotta kill someone to earn my keep?" he growled.

"Not at the moment, no," Coulson agreed mildly. "Though it's nice to hear that you're willing to go that far for us. Director Fury will be pleased. I have good news and bad news. Since you get both, it doesn't matter which you hear first. The good news is that since you were only part of the crowd in the video that's making the rounds, your presence is not required for the press interviews that Captain Rogers and Mr. Stark will be participating in this morning. The bad news," he explained while holding out a text-light memo to Logan, "is that we've received word that the commander of your former team has been kidnapped. Very little intel right now as you can see. We don't know who or why, though we have some suspicions."

Logan took the memo, raising an eyebrow as the news sank in. "Summers?" he asked, sounding somewhere between surprised and annoyed. "I put ten thousand miles between us, and the little shit still manages to be a pain in my ass," he growled as he looked over the memo. It really didn't have any more information than Coulson had already given him verbally. Logan looked up and tilted his head at Coulson. "So you kids want me to go get 'im? Your files didn't tell you how well the two of us get along?"

"Actually, they did. Which is why I said bad news, not terrible news," Coulson countered easily. "We don't need your participation at all if you'd prefer not to be involved. Mr. Summers has been missing for almost a month already. To be honest, the chances of finding him get slimmer every day. If we do, there are no guarantees that we're still looking at a rescue mission and not a recovery. Since you're with us now, it just seemed fair to give you an appraisal of the situation."

//A month...?// "I'll help if I can," Logan agreed without another second's hesitation. The two of them didn't get along, but Logan was reasonably sure that Scott would try to help him if the tables were turned. It was hard to go through hell and back with someone without retaining some sense of respect for them. The idea that Jean would want Logan to help galvanized the decision. "Any leads? Anything I can do?" The idea of bringing Scott back to Xavier in a box didn't sit well with Logan, but he also couldn’t quite figure out why no one from Xavier’s was on teh case to start with.

"It's a delicate situation," Coulson answered. "May I come in?" He moved past the man without waiting for an answer and opened the other file folder he held. "For quite awhile, we've had our eye on a growing portion of the slave trade in this country and abroad. We've managed to close off a few avenues for them, try to keep things out of the States, but I'm sure you know that even special agencies have their limits. Mr. Summers disappeared suddenly and without warning. He had gone out for a ride alone on his motorcycle, and no one has seen him since - or at least reported seeing him. Unfortunately matters are complicated because this group," he tapped the folder, "has also been active in the area of New York where he went missing. To be blunt, we think that if he's still alive, he's probably been sold to someone who deals in... exotics."

Logan's jaw clenched. "Scott's not stupid. These people are professionals if they managed to get ahold of 'im," he observed, looking through the rest of Coulson's files. Little made him as angry as slavers. The idea went against the very core of the feral mutant's nature, and the idea that a comrade - even one as obnoxious as Scott Summers - was in their hands was enough to leave him itching to kill someone. "Just tell me where I need to go and who I need to stab some answers out of, Coulson. I'll kill every last one of 'em for ya. Or at least kill 'em until they decide to take up basket-weavin'."

Coulson couldn't help smiling at that. "I appreciate your enthusiasm. The best lead we have at the moment is a trade cell that seems to be operating in New York City - one of the outer boroughs. We don't have any reason to believe that Mr. Summers has moved through there specifically, but it's the closest point of contact from where he was taken, so it's our best bet for information." The man's smile stretched a bit wider. "How are you at undercover work?"

Logan raised an eyebrow, looking understandably skeptical. "Honestly, I'm better at death and dismemberment." When Coulson didn't offer any alternatives, Logan sighed. "Alright. Fine, but I don't care if it's a whole busload o' orphans, if ya ask me to dress in drag, I'm out." He wasn't honestly sure he could manage to resist the urge to kill a whole bunch of people if he was presented with slavers at their "best," but he was willing to try and play along. 

"I think that might stand out," Coulson countered at once. "It's what you would expect - pose as a buyer. You're unknown to them and most people, honestly. You'll be relatively under the radar. Unlike most of our operatives, you haven't been on the news, and there's nothing about you that screams 'fed'. If you walk in and say you want to buy, they're likely to believe you. Of course you'll have access to funds from SHIELD to make whatever gestures are necessary to convince them that you've got the cash to back up your demands. I doubt any of that is outside your comfort zone?"

Logan thought for a moment, then shook his head. "I can handle that."

~*four days later*~

//I can't handle another minute o' this.// Logan was sick and tired of the parade of slaves, wannabe pimps, creepy billionaires, and shady nightclubs that had made up the majority of the past ninety-six hours of his life. He couldn't exactly declare that he was looking for "something with overpriced, red-tinted sunglasses and a weird penchant for boy bands" and have himself lead to the man he was looking for. Half of him wanted to wipe out every dingy little smallfry slave dealer he encountered and set all their "acquisitions" free, but he knew that he'd create a dead end for himself and for SHIELD if he did so. His mission was to save Scott and collect enough intel for SHIELD to be able to dig into this ring and shut it down in a more permanent fashion.

Trying to ignore the sweaty, nervous-looking man in a suit - //Is that a senator...?// - and his downtrodden purchase, Logan raised an eyebrow at the now unpleasantly-familiar man approaching him. "J, I thought you said you were gonna to show me your specials," he said, doing his best to sound affable.

The man - bulky, hairy, balding, and terrifyingly Eastern European - shrugged one tattooed shoulder. "I have special. Only one. You not like," he said in an unplaceable accent.

"J, I ain't here for the usual crap. You know I got money... Show me somethin' special or I'm takin' my business elsewhere."

"Is nowhere that is else," J returned, looking irked.

"Then I'll just leave." Logan turned resolutely to walk away.

"Fine!" J gestured, and the suit-man and his toy were removed from the room. "You pay me five hundred for look."

Logan drew a wad of bills from his pocket, but didn't quite let J take hold of it. "I get it back if I don't like what I see."

"No. You pay for look. Is dangerous, selling these. You pay, or you go to where else."

"Three hundred."

"Four."

"Fine, but this better blow my mind." Logan handed over the money. He'd have gladly thrown them everything SHIELD had given him, of course, but he knew it would be too obvious if he didn't haggle a bit.

J nodded and moved over, muttering in a broken foreign dialect with a thuggish looking man who glared briefly at Logan before stalking off downstairs. J meanwhile bustled around the room making sure the windows were properly covered and the door leading out properly locked. "You see, you like. Very pretty, but how you say headstrong. Little bruised," he admitted with a shrug too casual to suggest he really cared that the merchandise had done too much mouthing off.

His companion returned at that moment dragging a man behind him. He jerked at the arm of his captive and threw him to the floor in front of Logan. "Kneel," he barked.

After a brief hesitation, the figure on the floor stirred until he was more or less obeying the order. Stripped except for a pair of white briefs that had seen better days, the man was dirty, bruised, and looked exhausted even with his eyes covered. The larger man jerked away the rough burlap tied around his head, and Scott blinked at the floor for a few moments before it came into focus. It was still strange to him seeing everything in its proper color. Nothing was red. The dirty floor just looked dirty. He almost missed it. After having been paraded out for a half dozen similar "clients" in the - days? weeks? - leading up to that moment, Scott kept his gaze down. He had learned just how little the men liked it when he was mouthy or disrespectful, and after only barely making it through the lashing he'd received the night before for trying to get them to leave the girl in the next cell alone, he wasn't up for a fight. Scott could barely stay awake, and the lines of red across his back burned every time he moved the wrong way. 

"You see? Pretty. Will heal like new. You want naked?"

"No need." Logan had to take a moment to unclench his jaw as he looked down at the other man. The beatings the guy had taken were enough to make Logan's blood boil. The mutant's nose told him he'd found the man he was looking for, but he had to make the show good, all the same. As much as he was ready to start dismembering everyone else in the room, Coulson had made it clear he was to get out without blowing his cover. For one thing, SHIELD might need him again. For another, these guys were all small-timers, and decimating the place would scare off all the big shots that SHIELD really wanted dead.

Steeling himself, Logan reached down and grabbed a handful of Scott's hair. //Please have the fucking sense to keep your mouth shut//, he prayed, though half of him was hoping to be "forced" into a fight. He tipped the man's head up and had to struggle to keep his expression clinical. It was unsettling to see Scott's eyes in the first place, and even more unsettling to see the hopelessness in them.

For a long moment, Scott was sure that he was hallucinating. Of all the people that might have come charging in to rescue him... well, Logan hadn't been on the list, and even the list he'd gotten together in his head at first was long forgotten. Scott had been sure he wasn't going to be rescued, and since they'd kept him down in the dark so long, he didn't have much at his disposal with which to rescue himself. But, no, it was Logan. He'd seen the man's jaw clench in anger too many times not to recognize the expression. He just barely kept himself from crying with relief at seeing a familiar face. 

Logan stared at the other man longer than might have been entirely smart before looking up at J. "Ten thousand."

J snickered. "Is special. Twenty."

"I don't see anything special. Pretty enough, though. Twelve."

"Eighteen. Since I like you."

"Fourteen, asshole."

J laughed a little and lit a cigarette. "You give fifteen, you get good deal."

"Fine." Logan wrote the number on a voucher and handed it to J. It was a neutral money drop contact that would let the dirtbag cash in the voucher for the agreed amount.

J examined the voucher closely, then nodded to his fellow thug. "You want more pretty, you come back," he said with a smile as the burlap was tied over Scott's head once again.

Logan grunted, dragging Scott to his feet and unceremoniously out of the back of the building and into the dark alley behind it. J's thug escorted them out but didn't follow them all the way to the van. Logan shoved Scott into the back of the vehicle, "Keep quiet," then proceeded to drive them a few miles away. Neither of them said anything in the interim, Logan too tense and Scott too busy processing to manage. Pulling over at a rest stop, Logan dove into the back of the vehicle with a first aid kit and settled next to Scott, quickly but carefully taking the burlap bag off his head and untying him. He quickly wrapped the other man in a blanket as well, having no doubt he'd be feeling exposed. "I'm gonna make sure you're alright, and then we'll get you to a real medical facility." He was fighting hard to compartmentalize everything. It was gut wrenching to see Scott in such terrible shape, and his hands shook a little as he opened the first aid kit.

Scott swallowed hard. It had been a long time since he had reason to hold a civil conversation with anyone. "I'm not crazy, right? You're real?" It sounded like Logan, looked like Logan, but the idea that he was safe was too much. Scott reached out and closed trembling fingers around Logan's arm, shuddering at the feeling of the solid warmth beneath his hand. "You're real," he echoed with a shaky sogj. The man's stiff shoulders slumped, and Scott let himself feel the weight of the relief, let it drag his eyes closed again. For once he was in a room with someone he didn't have to watch like a hawk. The thought of a hospital brought up a sudden new rush of panic, and Scott gave a jerky shake of his head as his eyes opened again, "Just... can we go.. go somewhere safe? A hotel or something? I just want to get cleaned up." His voice was rough even to his own ears, but Scott found that he couldn't tolerate the idea of being examined by yet another stranger.

 

Logan started to protest on the grounds that he was no doctor, but Scott didn't really seem to need a doctor. "Alright," he said, nodding a little. The touch to his arm had been almost jolting, the hesitance and vulnerability in the gesture unnerving. "Lemme just..." Trailing off, he made sure that none of the wounds on Scott's back were dirty or infected, then put the kit away. "Just relax. I'll find somewhere safe." He'd planned to take Scott straight back to Stark tower, but the man seemed to need a few moments to himself. "Take a nap if you can. We've got a bit of a drive."

They were on the outskirts of the city, and Logan didn't want to camp too close to the slave operation and arouse suspicions, so he made a point to get a good hour's worth of road behind them before he picked a hotel. Fortunately, not many people were stirring so late, and it was easy to sneak Scott into the room he'd reserved without catching someone's eye. Logan handed Scott a change of his clothes. "They might be a little big, but they'll cover ya," he said.

Scott nodded. "Thank you." With the prospect of a real night's sleep in relative safety before him, Scott felt utterly exhausted. He shuffled into the bathroom and stripped away what little he wore before standing under the warm flow of the water. It hurt against the torn flesh of his back, but the pain was tolerable. For once it wasn't a new hurt, it was an old one being cleansed, and Scott savored even the sting. He haltingly cleaned himself from head to toe and then pulled the clothes on. The boxers more or less fit thanks to some forgiving elastic, and though Scott was swimming in the t-shirt, it felt nice. He'd never thought he would find the smell of Logan comforting, but he did just the same. By the time Scott headed back into the bedroom he felt almost human. "I'll tell you about it in the morning. If you want to know," he allowed quietly.

Logan did and didn't all at once. SHIELD probably would want to know, and Logan figured it would be easier for Scott to tell him than someone like Coulson. He nodded. "I do," he said as gently as he knew how. Scott somehow looked even more vulnerable in the oversized clothing than he had wearing only underwear, and Logan found himself wishing he could comfort the man a little. The feral mutant doubted that Scott would find any comfort in anything Logan had to offer. Except... //Almost forgot.// Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a small case, opened it, and passed Scott a set of ruby-tinted sunglasses. "Here. For whenever you're ready to get some sun again."

Scott swallowed hard, fingers clutching tight around the glasses for a moment. They'd been torn from his face during the fight. He'd spent a solid week completely blind with his eyes bound roughly whether he was awake or asleep. He shuddered at the memory. "Thanks." He set the glasses down on the nightstand and sighed as he sat gingerly down on the bed. It didn't disappear, and he chose to trust the reality of the moment and lie down. Scott stretched out on his stomach to avoid aggravating his back further. At the last second of consciousness, Scott's eyes fluttered open. "Who sent you? You wouldn't come for me... not for the Professor... who?"

Logan hesitated a moment. He hadn't been explicitly told he couldn't mention SHIELD, but he got the feeling they weren't big on handing out their address, either. "Government organization," he said, settling on the edge of his own bed. "You'll get to meet 'em all when we get where we're goin', but I probably shouldn't go flappin' my mouth here. Once you get rested up, I can call 'em and get 'em to take us back to headquarters. They'll wanna talk to you, see what they can find out, but after that you're free to go back to Westchester. If you want." Scott's question, the assumption that Logan wouldn't have come for him without someone sending him, grated on his sense of guilt. Granted, he wouldn't have known if it hadn't been for SHIELD, but he'd have gone looking for Scott much sooner if he'd known. //I guess getting into a fistfight with a guy over his wife kind of leaves a bad impression.// It didn't matter, though. Scott was safe. "Wish I'd known sooner. No one told me you'd disappeared." //Not that I exactly left a forwarding address.//

Surprised by the admission and the implication that Logan would have come looking for him if he'd known, Scott watched him warily for a moment before sighing. "No one knew. I'd imagine that the Professor saw something with Cerebro to start them looking. They weren't expecting me back. Still aren't." He laughed bitterly. "Kind of pathetic. The first time I strike off on my own, I get kidnapped. Maybe you weren't too far off about me in the first place." Scott sighed again, too tired to think about it anymore. "Call them. Have somebody bring a car or a helicopter or whatever. If I'm going to get interrogated, I'd just as soon get it over with."

Logan shook his head. "No interrogations about it, Slim. You can talk to me when you're ready. They're kosher with that, as long as you stick around a day or two so they can relay any of their follow-up questions through me." He reached out and gently squeezed the man's shoulder. "You need to rest. Then I wanna know what happened." //And a few answers on what drove you away from Westchester... but that can come later.// "Don't think I'm gonna turn you over to a buncha government suits just 'cause they tell me to." He offered a faint grin. "You know how good I am at doin' what I'm told."

Scott managed to find a smile for that, surprised to find that he believed every word. "Okay. Thank you," he repeated before closing his eyes. Scott was out like a light a second later. It had been too long since he had the opportunity to give in to sleep with total abandon. Given the chance, he did so without hesitation. Scott slept without any sense of time passing. No dreams good or bad interrupted the darkness. 

When he finally opened his eyes again, the illumination behind the curtains told him that it was morning. Scott shifted, panicked for only a moment before he spotted Logan sitting not far away. His whole body sagged. "Hey. How long was I out?"

Logan hadn't missed the moment of panic on Scott's face, nor the evident relief when Scott's eyes found him. He couldn't ignore the sense of responsibility that came with that. He was Scott's only anchor, his only comfort. Besides, it was oddly appealing seeing the man in his t-shirt. He glanced at the windows. "About ten hours. You needed your rest, looks like," he replied. He pointed to a fast food bag on the table. "Got you some food if you're hungry." He tilted his head toward Scott. "Then you can tell me whatever it is you're comfortable tellin' me about what happened."

 

"I forgot what it's like not to be hungry," Scott answered with a flicker of a smile. He eased himself up carefully but was pleased to find that his back didn't ache quite as much as it had the day before. He sat down at the table and tucked into the food as quickly as possible while remaining vaguely civilized. By the time he was finally slowing down, Scott had his thoughts mostly in order. "I got jumped. Downtown New York, and I get jumped. I guess they'd been following me for awhile, knew who I was. For all I know they were watching the school and saw me leave. For what they get paid, it's possible." Scott took another bite and let himself breathe deeply. "I'm not sure how long it was before I woke up. For awhile it was all being tied up and dark vans, and I didn't know what was going on. I thought it was Magneto or someone. Someone we knew."

Scott looked up at Logan at last and swallowed hard before admitting, "It didn't take long once we got to the first checkpoint. They did an exam. They did it with everyone to check out the merchandise, find out what kind of shape we were in. It was horrible and humiliating, but... but apparently being a virgin - so to speak anyway - is worth something." It hadn't made things good, but Scott knew he had survived without a lot of the "testing" that many of the others had gone through. They wanted to get the biggest bang for their buck. "When no one came after a week... two weeks... I just... I didn't think anyone would."

Logan was relieved and horrified all at once. "I'm sorry. I mean, I know it's not much comfort, but..." He trailed off, feeling awkward. //This is the exact opposite of something I can handle with my skill set.// "I'm just glad you're alive. Kept thinkin' I'd find out you'd..." He trailed off, surprised at himself and how much the idea bothered him. Sure, they'd had their differences. Sure, their last interaction had involved trying to beat each other into the ground, but the idea of Scott winding up dead, especially at the hands of slavers, cut Logan to the quick.

"Made it," Scott answered with a wan smile. "No body to pick up." He met Logan's gaze and added, "I know I keep saying this, but thank you. All that crap before you left... it was stupid. I'm not saying you weren't stupid too," Scott added, "but you... you loved her. The whole thing didn't have to be a mess like it was." He sighed and shook his head. "Not that it matters right now. What does SHIELD need to know to find these guys and shut down every last cockroach running around the operation?"

Logan chose to ignore the unease that Scott's comments about Jean had brought up. His feelings on the matter were almost more of a jumble than the swiss cheese that was his memory. Instead, he focused on Scott's question. "They'll wanna know all the names you can remember. Any locations, any prisoner's names, if they ever said anything about who their target market was or why they were focusing more on mutants than normal humans. Really, any details you can come up with could help: smells, sounds, how many times you were transported. The more you can give, the more we can look. I dug up a good chunk o' information on their locations lookin' for you, but I had to do it without tippin' anyone off, so I didn't get as much as I'd like." //Or the opportunity to cut pieces outta every last one of 'em.// "If you recognized any accents, or even if you noticed whether they all had the same accent, same language. How they caught you and exactly where's gonna be important, too." He felt guilty, asking Scott to recall the next, "And anything else they did or said in the exam. And if they seemed to have any sort of organization or rules or restraint when it came to prisoner control." More restrained captors meant a more organized, large-scale operation with some big-time, business-smart backers. Already, Logan had seen signs of that much. The fact that Scott was still alive and hadn't been raped more than suggested that there was a very big backer behind all this, perhaps even a fairly well-to-do foreign government.

"Yeah... okay." It was all straightforward and precisely what he had expected, but he knew it would still suck going through it all again in his mind. "Maybe we can head back to SHIELD headquarters? I think it might be easier to just type this up. I don't want to have to go through it more than once in explicit detail if I don't have to." He'd been a lot luckier than the other prisoners, but he hadn't gotten off without a scratch mentally, physically, or emotionally, and Scott knew he'd feel like shit by the time he got done spewing the experience out into a document for official perusal. "I'll answer any questions they have when it's done. I want these guys shut down. I don't want anyone else going through this. Ever." Even the worst of the Brotherhood didn't deserve to end up in the clutches of people looking to exploit other beings for their own profit that way. 

 

Logan didn't like the idea of rushing the whole process, but Scott was right. //Or maybe you just don't like the idea o' him gettin' done so soon and leavin'.// "Alright. Guess that'd be easier, anyway." //For both of us.// Logan wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to keep from walking off and finding every last dirtbag he'd already encountered and killing them horribly if he had to hear all the details.

A quick radio call and an even quicker helicopter ride later, they were back at SHIELD. Logan chased off the medics, fairly certain that Scott didn't really need them and sure he didn’t want them around. He left Scottwith one of Stark's ridiculously hi-tech light-based laptops and went to clean up and change. He'd asked Scott to come find him when he was done. Logan wasn't sure why the idea of the other man leaving was so uncomfortable. They hadn't exactly been best buddies even before the meltdown.

Scott hated the silence of the room as he carefully spilled the whole experience out. It hurt. He hated thinking about what he'd seen and what he'd done just to get by. Most of the time he'd just taken the beatings when he had to, but there had been times... Scott wasn't used to giving up or giving in, but he had done both on numerous occasions. By the time he finished, his back was cramped from sitting so still in the chair, and his eyes ached from staring at the screen. He didn't even bother re-reading any of the report before mailing it to the address Logan had given to him. 

Though he had taken the SHIELD agents who greeted them up on their offer of new clothes, in the end Scott had changed into a comfy pair of pants and kept Logan's t-shirt on. It felt more comfortable somehow. "Finished," he informed Logan when he emerged into the sitting room of what he presumed was Logan's personal suite. The whole place was pretty posh. From what Scott could tell, everybody had their own living area for the most part with a communal floor for meals and meetings. It didn't seem like Logan's kind of place at all, and yet he read a sort of comfort in the man that he'd never seen at the mansion. //Comfort isn't always about the place.// "Like I said, just let me know if they're not clear on anything, but I think I got it all."

Logan, sitting in a recliner in front of the TV, nodded as he turned off the tube. The fact that Scott was still wearing his t-shirt intrigued him, but he didn't say anything. "I'll let you know," he said, "but knowin' you, you covered everything and then some. Get you a beer or anything? Or were you plannin' to leave soon?" He didn't like the idea of Scott leaving. His sense of responsibility remained, yes, but there was something else... //Maybe it's a sense o' guilt,// he told himself. The answer didn't seem to match up enough to quiet his unease.

"I... no. A beer would be nice," Scott answered honestly. He didn't know how to be casual with Logan. When they'd spent time together in the past, he'd always focused himself too intently on everything about Logan that he didn't like. It was foreign playing nice with him, and Scott regretted the oversight. The truth was that Logan had been so understanding about everything that it was almost surreal, and unlike most people from Westchester would have been, Logan knew how to keep his distance when it was warranted. Finally he confessed, "I don't really have anywhere to go."

Logan was already up and bringing back a frosted bottle with the cap off. "Things not so great in New York, huh?" He settled in his recliner again, a beer of his own in hand. He tilted his head at Scott. He'd taken Scott's haunted look as an artifact of his captivity, but it now occurred to Logan that the other man might have been dealing with an entirely different set of baggage. "You're safe here, at any rate. I don't think they're gonna throw you out if they wanna keep me around."

 

Scott couldn't help laughing, the sound genuine if quiet. "At the moment, I could probably do worse than hanging around and being your maid." He took a swig of beer and then looked toward the windows. "I guess I should dig out my shades and get some sun soon." As little as he wanted to go back to constant care and concern over even the smallest gesture for fear of hurting someone, Scott knew he was damn near useless without his powers. "It's so much fucking easier to wash my face, though."

 

"You look better without 'em, too," Logan remarked before he thought about it. He wasn’t in the habit of holding back what was on his mind, but he hadn't realized that was what was on his mind. When he did think about it for a second, Scott's bright blue eyes were very- //Woah. Wait. Now you're just bein' weird. And the guy just got through gettin' handed around by a bunch of guys who wanted to fuck him stupid. He probably doesn't want anyone hittin' on him//. Not that Scott had ever really struck Logan as likely to be into men, anyway. Looking as embarrassed as he ever had the decency to get, Logan stared intently at his bottle. "But I get it. Feelin' useful's kinda important."

Scott's eyebrows shot up for a second, but he let Logan retreat once he realized what he'd said. In truth he wasn't bothered by the comment, and Scott wondered if that was a sign that he was experiencing some sort of mental break. Otherwise he probably would have been furious or annoyed or creeped out. //Right?// "Soon. Just not yet," he allowed after a moment to think it over. "I guess I should want to charge in and work to get it all out of my head, but right now... You know, I've never really just done nothing. Not since my mutation. I got recruited by the professor, I went to Westchester, and I've been working. Always working on something. Now I don't know what I want to work toward. It's time to be still."

That was something Logan could relate to, and he nodded, grateful Scott hadn't pushed about his comment. "I can get behind that. Kinda what I was doin' when SHIELD picked me up, but with more alcohol and fistfights. Dunno that you'd call that 'work', though." He offered a faint grin. "You can crash here tonight if you want, or I can probably get 'em to give you a suite o' your own. The couch folds out, and you can take the bed." Logan hadn't bothered to make it up after the last time he'd slept in it, but it was clean enough otherwise. The feral mutant had made it clear to Stark that he didn't want anybody or anything coming by to clean up his room.

"The couch is fine with me," Scott answered. He appreciated that Logan was being nice - new territory for him as far as Scott could tell - but he wasn't ready to throw the man out of his own bed, especially when he could've gotten a room of his own if he wasn't so uneasy about being alone. "Believe me, it's going to be the most comfortable bed I've had in awhile, not counting the hotel. I'll see about a room tomorrow." Scott didn't like the thought, but he knew he needed to learn how to feel safe without a permanent bodyguard, and if he couldn't feel safe in Stark Tower, he would never feel safe anywhere. "Thanks for letting me crash here. Somebody who didn't know you might think we like each other."

Logan quirked a faint grin at that. "Don't worry. I'll still call you a dick when people're lookin'. And I'm not readin' you a bedtime story," he promised, tossing the TV remote to Scott. "But, y'know, there's the boob tube if you need some background noise. Probably give you fewer nightmares, too." He stood and stretched, his back popping a few times. "Think I'm gonna turn in. I'm sure SHIELD'll drag me outta bed first thing to get all the details they can outta me."

"Yeah, sounds good," Scott answered with a nod. He tried to relax himself without the aid of the TV but finally gave in and turned on some old Nick at Nite re-reruns. A few episodes of the Dick Van Dyke Show later, Scott finally drifted off. He found himself running in the dream, turning down twisting pathways that always ended in a dark room filled with leering guards. He'd turn, he'd run, and no matter what turns he took, in the end one of the men would grab him and drag him in, screaming. He woke sweating and exhausted to find that he'd only gotten a few minutes of sleep. The cycle repeated three more times before Scott finally hauled himself up and stumbled, weary and shaky, into Logan's room. He didn't understand why he felt safer with the man, but he did. "Logan?" he called out, remembering well how it had gone when Rogue interrupted the man while he was sleeping.

Logan sat up immediately as if he hadn't even been asleep, the faint glint of adamantium visible for a split second before he registered who was in the room with him. "Scott..." He rubbed a hand over his face and slouched a little, letting out a breath as he relaxed. "Scared the shit outta me. You alright?" He already knew the answer was no. Nobody who halfway knew him would want to risk waking him up without a good reason.

"Sorry," Scott answered, sounding every bit as miserable as he felt. "I..." He felt like a toddler coming into his parents' bedroom, but he couldn't stop himself from confessing, "I couldn't sleep. I kept having these... dreams... just... can I sleep in here? I'll take the floor, I don't care, just... I just need to be close to somebody right now." It hurt feeling so broken, and it hurt even more feeling that way around someone like Logan. Once upon a time the man would have pounced on the chance to expose such weakness. Now Scott didn't feel like he had anywhere else to turn.

Logan was pretty sure he was still asleep, but the slightly awkward pause of silence didn't get interrupted by any sort of normally land-bound mammals coming through the window. //Well, that rules that out.// He slowly nodded. "Yeah. Uh, you don't haveta sleep on the floor. SHIELD gave me more bed than I need," he said, patting the unused half of the bed beside him. "Just... if I get noisy in my dreams, make sure you get to a safe distance."

"Thank you," Scott answered, too tired and overwrought to be anything but stiffly formal. He swallowed and climbed into bed next to Logan. Once upon a time, the man wouldn't have so much as said a kind word to him in such a situation, let alone given up half his bed. Scott should have been ashamed of his own weakness, and he was in a way, but it felt too good having someone close to let himself overthink it. Instead Scott closed his eyes and finally drifted into an exhausted sleep.

Logan, tired from his mission, was only able to stay tensely, awkwardly awake for a few minutes longer before passing out. He slept as easily as he ever did, though. Daylight streaming through the window woke him, and he slowly realized he was cuddled up closely to Scott. //Why do I keep wakin' up cuddled up to guys I wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole?// Moving slowly in hopes he wouldn't wake Scott, he carefully started to extract himself from the other man and roll away.

Scott shifted, struck at the sudden chill. He looked back to realize that he was cold because the human blanket that had been warming him was no longer there. "You could warn a guy. It's chilly in here," he groused with a flicker of a smile before pulling away himself and stretching as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Look, I won't tell anybody you like to cuddle and you don't tell them I'm too scared to sleep alone. We both get to keep at least SOME of our pride."

Logan turned away so Scott wouldn't see him blush faintly but nodded his agreement nonetheless. "Deal," he grunted, stretching and listening to his back pop. //Stark'd never let me live it down.// Logan quickly got up and started tugging on jeans and a white t-shirt. He paused. "Though, uh, they might ask some questions if you tell 'em you're stayin' and don't need a room o' your own." He shrugged. "Though I guess you don't really haveta tell 'em."

"I'll get my own room," Scott answered with a sigh. He hated it. He wasn't ready to even pretend to be human again, but he knew that letting himself drift farther away from okay would help nothing. "I'll also go out in the sun eventually. Soon. It's just... I dunno. Anyway, I'd better get dressed. You don't have to play go-between on all this. I can talk to them, whoever their point person is." Maybe he would stay around in the long run, or at least until he had somewhere better to be. Scott knew the urge to help would rise again even if for the moment he felt like curling up in Logan's bed and sleeping until the world had safely passed him by.

"You don't have to," Logan said, a little faster and louder than he'd intended. He cleared his throat and shrugged. "I mean, I get it. You obviously don't want to. You can keep usin' the couch." //Or the bed. Bed's fine, too,// he thought, but didn't quite have the nerve to say it. It'd been more reassuring than he cared to admit to have Scott there when he woke. Then again, the man was his one link to the closest thing he'd found to home in a long time. //Helluva link,// he reflected. "Coulson's the one you'd wanna talk to, though. I mean, if you want your own place, or if you wanna tell 'im you're on my couch. I mean, he'll keep his mouth shut about whatever assumptions he makes."

Feeling awkward again, Logan shrugged once more. "You can think about it. Meantime, I'm gonna get some coffee and maybe some breakfast from the kitchen. Want me to show you how to get there?"

"Yeah, sounds good." Scott knew it was going to get silly and probably annoying if he followed Logan around all the time, but for the time being the man didn't seem to mind. "Lemme change." He availed himself at last of the clothing SHIELD had provided, choosing a dark t-shirt and jeans. Reluctantly he tossed Logan's shirt into the hamper. It was a security blanket. Scott was smart enough to understand that. Letting go still felt like crap. He emerged in Logan's sitting area dressed and ready to go. "Now, food?" He was struck by the urge to thank Logan for his kindness again but refrained. It sounded like a broken record already. "So who's this Coulson guy?"

Logan started walking, giving a faint shrug at the question. "Good guy, if a little weird 'n' nerdy. It’s disturbin' how much he seems to know about what goes on around here." He moved into the kitchen, pleased to see they were alone for the moment. He made a beeline for the coffee maker and started a pot before digging out some eggs and bacon. "Ain't much of a cook, but I haven't screwed up the eggs 'n' bacon thing yet. Unless you want a fruit salad or somethin'. Then you're on your own." It was more along the lines of their more traditional ribbing, but Logan didn't feel the animosity behind his words that used to be a given.

Scott held up his hands in surrender. "I didn't even know you could cook. If I get to see that in action, I'm willing to eat whatever comes so long as it won't kill me." He saw no reason to look a gift horse in the mouth. Scott's own cooking skills veered toward macaroni, sandwiches, and the odd microwave meal. While Logan worried about the food, he poured them both generous cups of coffee. "How do you take it?" If he'd ever paid any attention to Logan's habits before, Scott might have known already. They'd eaten breakfast at the same table together for the better part of two years, but he'd never bothered to take note. Scott did his best to shrug off a strange sensation of guilt at the realization.

"Black," Logan said, then cursed as he managed to break open an egg's yolk. "See, 'cook' is such a strong word. What I do’s more like makin' a loosely controlled mess. I'm better at cookin' stuff over a fire in the woods, but I can make a few things on a stove," he said, managing to flip the eggs without a problem. A few minutes later, and he was dividing up the results on a pair of plates and settling down at the table with them. "Dig in. Nothin' special, but it's edible." It was weird, thinking they might actually talk to each other at a meal. "So, how's it been at the mansion? How're Bobby and Rogue?" Scott had hinted that things weren't good with Charles and Jean, but Logan figured delving into that could wait for later. If later happened.

"They're good, actually. Bobby's probably taken over for me," Scott admitted with a hint of a smile. "He's stronger than people thought. Rogue is too, she's just... she's got a lot to figure out. She'll get there." The young woman was continually looking for a way out instead of a way to use what she had. Eventually she'd have to realize there was no way out. "She's not stupid. She'll put it together. Bobby can help if she'll let him. The rest... is messy. That's my fault, not theirs. It's why I left. I had a role there that I'd always fit into. When I stopped fitting, I stopped knowing how to handle things. I stopped knowing the next step. You can't lead other people if you don't even know where you're going, and things got messy on all fronts."

Logan nodded. "Fair enough. Sounds like you made the right choice," he said. "Tough choice, too. Marie... Rogue never understood why I left, but... Well, I guess now you can relate. Not that I was exactly lookin' to take your job." He took a few bites of food and a sip of coffee. He couldn't help but stare a little longer than he would've liked at Scott. It was strange and intriguing to see the man without the ruby lenses. It was like he was someone else. //Maybe he is.// Logan tightened his jaw and looked back at his plate. "Well, the Avengers could always use some help, if you decided to stick around."

"I might. For awhile anyway." Scott didn't want to make any promises he couldn't keep, but the idea of having a home base again was a comforting one. He liked being settled. "I used to be mad at you for leaving them. Us. I get it now. There's no good way or good time to get away when you need to. You just have to go." He'd tried several times to subtly extricate himself but had always been drawn back in by the professor or someone else. In the end running made the most sense. He'd finally gotten the distance he needed. "I never expected I'd see you again out saving the world with a team. Decide you play well with others after all?"

Logan snorted, smirking faintly as he shrugged. "Jury's still out. But then, this place ain't exactly put together o' well-adjusted types like the X-Men were," he said wryly. "I mean, we got the bondage twins, a guy who makes me look even-tempered, some spook with an eyepatch... Well, to sum it all up, I'll just say: Tony Stark. And you get an idea o' how cohesive this bunch is." Then there was Steve, who was more or less a slightly taller, American pie-er, possibly a hair more uptight version of Scott, but Logan didn't bother mentioning the good Captain. Mostly because Logan was slightly afraid he'd slip somehow and let the cat out of the bag about the little romp he'd had with Stark and the tall blond. "And, t' be perfectly fair, I ain't done any world-savin' just yet."

"You will," Scott answered with a flicker of a smile. Logan was more the hero than he pretended to be. If he hadn't been, Scott might never have thought twice about Jean walking away. Unfortunately Logan wasn't quite the loner he pretended to be. Underneath his prickly exterior, he cared. He wasn't a cuddly teddy bear, but he was a good man. That was what had made him dangerous. Jean saw that goodness as clearly as anyone - maybe more clearly than anyone but Rogue. "There are worse things to do with your time. I think over the past few weeks I've done most of them."

"Hundred bucks says you weren't watchin' episodes o' Jersey Shore," Logan returned, scarfing down the last of his eggs. He sat still for a moment, looking a little lost, before he returned to the fridge and withdrew a beer. He grinned sheepishly at Scott. "Six o'clock somewhere, right?" He put their dishes away then glanced at his companion. "Get you anything? Coffee? Decaf tea?"

Scott considered and shrugged, "Beer." When Logan looked at him like he'd sprouted a second head, he shrugged, "When in Rome. Anyway, I think I've earned some breakfast hour binging considering." He was honestly hoping that the shit he'd been through meant he'd exhausted the whole of his bad karma for the year. "Y'know how I know I did the right thing leaving? When Coulson talked about somebody checking in from the mansion, he said it was the professor."

Logan frowned, feeling a stab of sympathy for the other man. It had to suck to think the one set of people you thought of as family hadn't made the effort to see how you were doing, especially when one of those people was your fiance. "So you're not on such great terms, then?" Scott had made it clear he'd been uncomfortable at the mansion, but Logan wouldn't have expected the amount of bitterness he was seeing. Chuck would check on anyone who'd left. Xavier had already decided that every mutant in the world was his problem, whether they wanted to be or not.

"I guess not. Not that I expected to be. It's not their fault," he pointed out almost reflexively. "I left. They need every person they can get to help and to teach the kids, and I left. That's not easy to overlook. I was mad at you when you left. I can't expect them not to be mad at me." Scott shrugged as if pushing the thought away. He took a long pull from the beer and offered Logan a ghost of a smile. "I guess maybe we have more in common than we thought."

"It's called bein' a realist," Logan said. He shook his head. "You guys were good to me. Took me in, helped me out, but I never could'a bought into all the idealism. You can't win a war without killin' a few people. Or a lot o' people. Chuck and 'Ro and the rest of 'em, they wanted to save everyone and talk everything out. That don't work most o' the time. The people that want Chuck to lose, they don't give two shits about whether or not we wanna kill 'em. They just know that they want us dead. I think you finally figured that one out."

"Maybe I did," Scott allowed earnestly. He hated the idea of becoming so jaded, but Logan was right. It was hard to think of any way that people like the scum trafficking in mutant slaves could be negotiated with. He knew what Magneto would do to men like that, and Scott was willing to admit to himself that he would likely have paid money for a ticket to watch it. "Either way, I don't feel comfortable there for now. I know that who I am at the moment isn't who they need or want me to be. Here, maybe I can just be."

"That's pretty metaphysical," Logan said, quirking a grin to let Scott know he wasn't judging. He gave Scott a reassuring clap on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it too hard. Far as I'm concerned, y'can stay here long as ya want. I don't really have a lot o' pull around here, but I can always leave if I don't like it." He looked around the kitchen as if checking for cameras or an impromptu, awkward visit from Coulson. "At least, I'm under the impression I can leave." He grinned faintly.

"That's comforting. Really." It wasn't like Logan to not have an escape plan, but Scott knew that if it really came down to it, the mutant would do whatever he needed to do to escape. Part of him still couldn't believe that of everyone in the universe who could have come to his rescue, it had been Logan in the end. "Maybe for today we just stay in, get really drunk - or, well, I get really drunk - and we try to forget we're supposed to do any fucking thing at all." It sounded like bliss in a way, though Scott suspected that after so much time in captivity, he probably should have wanted to go running through open fields or something instead.

 

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Now you wanna get drunk, huh? Well, I think I got enough beer t' facilitate. If not, I'll steal whatever Stark's got layin' around," he said, though he had to admit to being rather surprised by Scott's sudden interest in getting wasted. //Then again, can't say I blame 'im...// "Far as I know, no one's told me to do anything. I'm gonna assume that extends to you, too." He gestured for Scott to follow him. "C'mon, I keep my stash in the fridge in the common room."

"That seems dangerous. Or is Stark's reputation as a lush just bad press?" Scott followed just the same. If the team really was getting to know Logan, they already knew better than to steal the man's booze - or would soon. It was a good way to end up with adamantium jammed through your eye socket. As much as he wasn't sure he was ready to fall in with any kind of team again, Scott had to admit that the Avengers had pretty posh digs. The place looked like a million bucks. With Stark's budget, he suspected it had cost a whole lot more than that. "What are they like? Outside all the press, what are the Avengers really like?"

"Pretty sure Stark's a semi-functioning alcoholic," Logan said, handing Scott a beer from the fridge before getting his own and settling on the edge of the pool table. “He's functioning just well enough to know better than to get into my stuff." He paused to take a swig before he thought about Scott's other questions. "I dunno. They're kind of nothin' you'd expect. Cap and Ton-- Stark have a... wild side," he said, thinking back to when they'd met. "Hawkeye's got anger issues, Hulk's some kind of zen master, and I haven't met Thor. I hear he's dumb."

"I'm not sure I'd let him hear you say that," Scott answered with a smirk as he took the beer. "He looks sharp enough to put you through a wall even if he couldn't compose an essay about it afterward. There are, frankly, times when I wonder if in our particular line of work it's not better to be a little dumb." //If you were too dim to have any idea what you were doing meant and how screwed you were in the long run, it had to be a lot more inspirational.// Scott had always gotten himself into trouble over-thinking. "Then again," he lifted the beer, "this is the great equalizer."

"Well, I can't say I'd be great at writin' prose about deliverin' an ass-whippin', either, so I'll be sure to keep my thoughts to myself when he's around," Logan decided, sipping from his own bottle. He grinned at Scott and nodded about the 'equalizer' comment. "Yup, kinda levels the playin' field. Unless you're Stark. Then you just solve your equations in a much sloppier line than usual. Bein' dumb don't hurt sometimes. Like my case. I don't have the sense to not try and do stupidly heroic shit. So we win. So far." He sighed and frowned. "Well, mostly."

"You sound so confident. How could I ever doubt it?" Scott responded drily. "Besides, it's not true. You're not dumb. You pretend to be dumb. That's why you frustrated me so much on the team. You have this," he gestured vaguely, "this persona. If you really were just a dumb berserker, that would be one thing, but you're pretty goddamn smart, and that made you dangerous. To me, anyway. It changed the game too much. I'd gotten kind of used to being a big fish in a small pond. You stay where you've always been, and it's comfortable. People know you, they respect you just because you're there. Just for staying. Once I noticed all that, I guess that's when I started thinking maybe I needed to stop staying. I started realizing maybe I needed to be someplace where I had to be good enough, not just be there."

Logan nodded thoughtfully, taking a big swig from his beer bottle. "Yeah, I can see that, but that's the good thing about you," he said, chancing a glance at the other man and then just as quickly looking away. He couldn't quite bring himself to tell Scott why he liked him and look at the other man at the same time. "You're stable. You always had your shit together. You weren't out chasin' ghosts whenever you felt like it. And you knew how to think things through." He looked at Scott and grinned a little. "Y'know, before you were ass-deep in trouble."

Scott stared, dumbfounded. "Logan, you do realize you just said multiple nice things about me in a row, right? I'm kind of expecting you to get struck down by lightning or to learn that you're in the middle of a stroke. Can you even have a stroke?" He let the joke go and grew more serious. "Thank you. Seriously. I want to get back to that again. Maybe part of being stable was being part of something bigger, and once things fell apart with Jean... the X-Men wasn't the big picture for me, she was. I need a new picture."

Logan grunted and nodded, digging another pair of beers out of the fridge and giving one to Scott. "Drink faster. You're gonna need it if you're gonna go down that road," he pointed out with a faint smirk. He sighed lightly, mulling Scott's words over. "Well, I feel like SHIELD's a pretty big picture, and there's a curtain over all but a little corner of it, but they do have beer. And at least you know me. Better the asshole you know, right?" he asked, clapping Scott roughly on the shoulder. He couldn't help but notice how solid the man felt under that t-shirt. //Guy's in better shape than I-- WOAH. Woah. Nope. No. He's in rebound mode times two, and you're an asshole. This is not the road we're going down.//

Scott gladly chugged half the beer in a go. He regretted it slightly a moment later but that didn't stop him from taking another swig. Day drinking was fine. Day being shit-faced drunk sounded a lot better with his current frame of mind. "Got a point there. I need to met new assholes." Scott's brow furrowed as he thought that over. "Nope, doesn't sound right. Gonna have to drink until it does." He clinked his bottle against Logan's and breezed right past the observation. The more Scott drank and the faster did it, the less he worried about how it all sounded. "I'm gonna regret asking this, but how many milliseconds were you here before you started hitting on the cute redhead... what's her face... uh... Widow?"

 

Logan felt a stab of disappointment and jealousy at the mention of Scott's attraction to Natasha. Then again, it made sense. The woman was a dominant, busty red-head with an apparent penchant for leather: exactly Scott's type. And Logan's, too, most days, but he'd definitely sort of missed that boat while he was fucking Steve and Tony and obsessing over Scott. Not up for trying to explain all that to Scott, Logan managed to come up with a decent explanation: "She, uh... I think she's already got a pet, and I'm not much into lickin' boots and stuff, so I don't think that relationship'd go too far. And while I’d never let all that stop me, her boy toy's an archer. Don't figure it'd kill me, but I could sure as hell do without an arrow in the eye," he said, managing to cover up any obvious reactions to the query. Besides, Scott was looking too drunk to notice. //Not drunk enough yet.// Logan figured a good binge drink and a hangover in the morning with a semi-responsible party to look out for him might be fairly cathartic for Scott. He grabbed another beer bottle and traded it for the mostly empty one in Scott's hand. "'Sides, gotta leave some for you, right?"

Scott snorted at that. "Not so much. Not that I object to getting laid, but... First problem is that she's terrifying. Second problem... I don't know. I need something to get me out of myself, and going after somebody who looks like Jean's little sister doesn't exactly sound like the right follow up." He paused and took a long drink. "I need change. I came here because I need change. I don't want to let myself start doing the same things over again. What's the point? What the hell's the point then?" The idea of letting leaving his life behind and going through hell be for nothing was disheartening. Scott shook his head and squared his jaw resolutely. "I'm not doing it like that again."

//Okay, so at least he knows it's weird,// Logan reflected as Scott compared Nat to Jean in the most uncomfortable way possible. He wondered momentarily if that meant his chances were any better, then remembered that he'd decided Scott was off limits. "Fair 'nuff," he allowed, leaning against the counter and sipping at his beer. "You figured out what you're gonna do different yet?"

The question was pointed, valid, and something Scott had no idea how to answer. His buzz was edging into full inebriation. "Well, I sort of already joined a team of superheroes, so I can't do that differently." Scott considered his options and finally looked levelly at Logan - at least as much as someone who was finding focusing on one spot steadily could - and asked, "Know any guys who are looking to have some fun?"

Logan hoped that Scott didn't catch the slight flutter of his jaw as he started to volunteer himself in answer. //That took a sharp left turn.// "Uh, not offhand," he answered, his mind flashing back to Steve and Tony and their fling together. He swallowed hard, looking way more composed than he felt internally. "I could, y'know, keep an ear out, but maybe you should take it slow? With all the... uh... y'know..." //The whole nearly getting raped thing…//

Scott's jaw tensed. Even drunk he'd caught the intention behind the words. "I'm not broken," he managed, not sure if he really believed it. He felt broken in a way, or at least cracked. Scott forced a smile that looked more tense than jovial. "I won't go picking any guys up in bars and getting kidnapped. Stupid idea. Nevermind." In retrospect he felt crazy for putting the idea forth to Logan of all people. He'd never talked about his attraction to men with anyone. It hadn't mattered, frankly. He'd been with Jean, and he wasn't looking for anyone else. Gender was entirely beside the point. Scott took another long pull from the bottle. If he got drunk enough, maybe it would stop mattering that he'd probably just lost whatever small respect he'd apparently managed to earn from Logan at some point.

Logan felt a stab of guilt. //Yep. Still haven't lost my way with people.// "Didn't mean it like that," Logan said, trying to think of something else to add that wouldn't sound completely asinine. He shifted uneasily, considering just shoving another beer in Scott's hand and calling it good. He hesitantly put what he hoped was a reassuring hand on Scott's shoulder and ducked his head a little to get the other man to look at him. "Just... Look, I know you're fine. I just..." He glanced off and took his hand away. "It scared the shit outta me when Fury gave me the mission to go get you." He'd been scared the entire time, in fact. Panicked, almost, every time the trail cooled off or he didn't find Scott where he'd expected. It had been even more terrifying when he'd found bodies. The sick anticipation involved in confirming none of them had been Scott had been damn near enough to make him crazy.

The sincerity in Logan's gaze was enough to make Scott regret withdrawing. Instead he let the alcohol thrum through him and actually smiled. "S'okay. I owe you one. For getting me. For letting me crash in your bed. For the beer." Scott found himself smiling more broadly. "It's starting to feel like we're actually friends." He was overcome by a strange affection at the realization and looked down at the bottle. He wasn't sure quite how to handle it or what to say to Logan. He'd made things more awkward than they had to be all on his own. "Tell you what, I promise I'll stop talking about picking up guys if you stop worrying about me almost getting my dumb ass killed."

Logan allowed himself the faintest quirk of a smile. "I'll try." //And now that you know he's into guys, it just gets a little weirder... And more difficult to not think about...// He coughed a little as if to interrupt his own thoughts. "That whole friends thing, though... Not sure if you haven't had enough to drink... or need more," he quipped, pulling the fridge open. "One more? And if you're gonna pick up guys, maybe you can just take me along so I can smack down anyone I think might be a sociopath."

"We're trusting you to judge who's crazy now?" Scott sounded skeptical, but he nodded his acceptance of the additional beer. "So I didn't freak you out? The, y'know, bisexual thing?" He felt a weight lift off of his chest at the news. "Christ, good. I don't have enough friends to scare them all away. All of you away. Just you at the moment." Scott was definitely feeling the alcohol, and he nearly giggled. "So you want to be my wingman? Make sure that, like, the guys aren't too ugly for me or that they're not gonna cop a feel before I'm drunk enough to follow through?"

Logan couldn't help a short chuckle at that. "Scott, I joined a team with a demi-god, a guy that makes me look like I should run an anger management class, someone whose superpower is money, a pair o' Freudian slips, and a fossil, and you're worried about me gettin' scared o' you bein' bi?" He shook his head and continued before Scott could answer. "'Course I'll be your wingman. Can't have you runnin' off with the coyote uglies. I mean, you're at least a ten." //That last part. That last part should've stayed in my head.//

Scott almost choked on the beer. He sputtered and tried to smile, feeling uncertain and confused and more than slightly flattered. "Thanks." It was the most coherent thing he could think of, and Scott felt glowingly proud of himself for having managed that much grace given the situation and his level of inebriation. "I guess maybe I should hold off on picking somebody up until I don't wake up screaming or whatever. Not everybody's as understanding as you are." Scott realized the way that sounded a second later given their current topic of conversation. He almost corrected himself but didn't. If Logan could be comfortable calling him attractive, he wasn't going to stumble all over himself talking about the fact that they'd slept together - even if it had been very literal sleeping.

Logan's eyebrows raised, and he looked away and cleared his throat uneasily not because the idea of sleeping with Scott bothered him, but rather the exact opposite. Not wanting Scott to see it if he happened to get a bit of a flush going, he muttered at the floor, "Could be worse. I mean, you could wake up stabbin' people, right?" he asked, finally looking up with a wry grin. "I mean, I'm not a great cuddler, but at least I don't big the covers." //Annnnnd I could change the subject any second now...//

Scott blinked slowly. His mind was dimmed, awash with alcohol, which let him think in an entirely different - and ultimately less effective - way. Logan was still talking about them sleeping together. He hadn't gone running in the other direction at the mention of other guys. He'd just been worried about Scott picking up the wrong one. He'd been complimentary. He'd been nice. He was barely able to meet Scott's gaze, which normally wouldn't have been that strange but considering he wasn't wearing his shades for once was noteworthy. It all tumbled together while Scott sat silently staring. He knew he was probably making Logan uncomfortable, but it didn't matter for the moment. He needed to put it all together before he did anything. In the end, Scott gave up on thinking. Instead he darted forward with speed and coordination surprising for someone who could hardly sit up straight in his chair and grabbed the front of Logan's shirt. The kiss wasn't kind or gentle, and it was more sloppy than sweet, but Scott needed to know one way or another whether the pieces had all fallen together right.

 

Logan grunted softly as Scott jerked him into the clumsy kiss, but his arms instinctively wrapped around the other man's body. Scott's scent hit him stronger so close: beer, aftershave, and the scent that was distinctly Scott's. Without thought, Logan pressed into the contact, meeting Scott kiss with equal enthusiasm. Rational thought caught up a second later, well after Logan had conveyed his real urges on the matter, but the feral mutant forced himself to pull Scott back to meet his eyes. Logan was panting, his eyes hooded and his face flush. In a voice rougher and deeper than it should've been, he murmured, "Scott... I... *really* wanna keep goin' where this's goin', but... Maybe we should wait 'til you're sober?"

"Would you say that if I told you I'd still want it if I was sober?" Scott didn't want to stop. He could tell that Logan wanted it as badly as he did. The other man wasn't exactly a master of subtlety, and the situation didn't call for subtle. "I don't wanna wait." Scott knew himself well enough to know that he'd stop if Logan really wanted to. Swallowing hard, his hands came to rest on Logan's thighs. "Don't make me stop." The words were a plea rather than an order, weighty with the renewed need he felt.

The feral mutant groaned, torn. He wanted to slam his mouth to Scott's and pick right back up where they'd left off. He also wanted things to be normal for them, and he wasn't sure that this was the way to go about it. The muscles in his jaw worked as he fought the urge. Scott's pleading blue eyes and his almost broken-sounding plea were making it nearly impossible to resist. His hands slid up to thread through Scott's hair, tangling tightly in the soft strands as if he was going to pull Scott away from him. "Scott..." He was painfully aware of the man's hands on his thighs, the scent of his sweat. He growled, whether in frustration or out of arousal was unclear. He leaned in, lips a breath away from Scott's before he finally withdrew, side-stepping out from between Scott and the kitchen counter. He realized then that his 'interest' was definitely still clear. "I wanna do this the right way. Not sure what the 'right' way is, but it don't involve you bein' drunk the first time around."

Scott's first instinct was to be furious. Putting himself out there and being rejected was one thing, but being rejected by Logan when the attraction was painfully obviously mutual made him more than slightly furious. He deflated quickly enough. Scott wasn't sure if it was the buzz or if he was going soft in light of everything he'd been through. He let himself fall unceremoniously onto one of the bar stools and nearly sent it careening over. Managing to right it at the last second, Scott sighed and then let out a snort of laughter. "Y'know, sober I probably never would have said anything. How fucked is that?"

Logan offered Scott a faint, brief smile, settling on the barstool next to him, leaning back against the bar with his elbows on it. "Well, then... Glad I got ya drunk," he said, though he pointedly kept a fair distance between the two of them, not so much because he was afraid of Scott making a move, but because he was pretty sure if he got too close to Scott again, he'd have the man sprawled over the bar and screaming his name. //Might be a little awkward if someone else decided they wanted a drink to start the day off.// "Maybe we should go watch some television and be useless the rest of the day like we planned?" he suggested.

"I could go for that." Scott caught a flash of uncertainty on Logan’s face and assured, "I'll keep my hands to myself." As much as he wanted to pretend that he was on a completely even keel, Scott knew better. He knew that he'd sleep a hell of a lot more comfortably if he wasn't alone staring at the dark. No amount of alcohol could completely chase away the ghosts he was running from. 

They passed the rest of the day in a surprisingly comfortable succession of beer and bad TV and companionable silence. As the hour drew late, Scott ventured, “Can I stay with you tonight? Just sleep. Scout's honor."

Logan nodded amiably. He'd have made the offer himself, but didn't quite know how to do it without seeming weird. "'Course. Wouldn't want to leave ya out in the cold." He knew how hard it was, being alone when he woke up freaked out and trying to figure out where he was. //Now the game becomes trying to not cuddle up to 'im while I'm asleep.//

Scott's shoulders slumped with relief. He'd been ready for rejection, and he frankly wouldn't have blamed Logan if he did feel too strange about it for them to share the same bed again. The ground they stood on had shifted. Everything was strange. In the harsh light of day, they might both regret the whole thing, but Scott didn't really think so. He forced himself up off the couch and drank two glasses of water in quick succession. "There. Now hopefully my head will only mostly be killing me in the morning." The man stumbled somewhat as he made his way back toward Logan's room. "No complaining to me about blue balls in the morning," Scott proclaimed as he stripped his shirt off and kicked off his shoes. 

 

Logan chuckled a little, the comment having caught him off guard. He watched a little too intently as the other man stripped to the waist, reaching out without a thought to steady Scott as the man teetered to one side. Scott's lean-muscled shoulder felt good under his hand, and Logan couldn't help but feel a little disappointed as he made himself let go once Scott had his balance. Logan wordlessly went about stripping down to his own boxers. It was rare The Wolverine found himself feeling awkward in a situation, but this was definitely one of those times. Not sure of what else to do, Logan settled into his side of the bed, surreptitiously catching glances at Scott as the man prepared for bed. 

 

Scott didn't really notice the staring at first, but finally he glanced up and caught Logan's gaze. He broke into a dopey grin. "Enjoying the show?" He hadn't really considered the idea that he was stripping in front of someone he'd made it pretty clear he wanted to sleep with. //I definitely made the night more awkward.// The gentlemanly thing to do would have been to return to the living room or get a suite of his own. Instead he climbed into the other side of Logan's bed and relaxed almost at once thanks to the soft surface and the comfortingly familiar scents surrounding him. "You gonna lay down or just, like, stay up and creeper stare at me all night?"

"Better me than Coulson," Logan pointed out, climbing into the bed. When Scott looked confused, Logan rolled up on his side to look at the man and shrugged one shoulder. "Dunno. The guy just seems like the sort who'd stand over your bed and watch you sleep. Especially if your name is Steve Rogers." With a sigh, he rolled back onto his back and tried to relax, a difficult task considering he just wanted to grab Scott, pull him close, and slowly fuck his brains out.

"Huh. Well, good luck to him." On the scale of unlikely matches, that sounded way up there. Scott smiled faintly to himself. 

"Eh, I don't know that it's true. I just know Coulson had a collection of Cap cards that he apparently was butthurt about Fury destroying in the name of faking his death. And Stark was sayin' the guy's a big fan." He shrugged. "For all I know, the dude's the most normal one here." 

"That's a pretty low bar to jump over," Scott pointed out with a smirk. They were all pretty damaged in their own ways from what he'd seen so far. He rolled onto his side and watched Logan quietly for a minute, enjoying the still moment and the fading buzz. It had been a hell of a strange few months, but it felt like the world was finally slowing down. If it slowed enough, Scott hoped he might even be able to start making sense of some of it. "Sleep tight. I say that mostly for self preservation. I'd rather not wake up eviscerated."

"Hey, you signed the waiver when you decided not to sleep on the couch," Logan muttered, rolling over and closing his eyes. 

His dreams were a mixture of the usual violence, nightmares of Scott being abducted, and far more intimate scenarios involving the other man. In the last dream, a hooded figure in green threatened and mocked him while Scott was tortured, and Logan jerked awake. He was pressed tightly to Scott, his arm curled around the man as if expecting him to be snatched away. Logan's eyes darted around the room as he fought to separate dream from reality and calm himself back down. 

 

The sudden shock of movement jerked Scott back to consciousness too. His eyes snapped open, and he would have moved if it wasn't for the fact that a heavy body was pressed tightly against his own - was, in fact, wrapped around his own. Still bleary from sleep, Scott relaxed when he realized it was Logan next to him. His breathing slowed again, and he tried to get his eyes to focus. "What's'a matter?" His head gave a throb, a not-so-subtle reminder that he should've stopped drinking far sooner the night before.

Logan let out a shaky breath. "Could'a sworn there was someone in the room," he growled, sounding more vicious than intended. As his mind cleared, he realized that he was quite thoroughly entangled with the other man. Images of himself burying his face in Scott's neck flashed through Logan's mind, and he clenched his jaw and forced himself to push away from the other man. He wanted Scott in ways he hadn't wanted anyone - at least anyone he could remember - since Jean. //And that might be a little fucked up.// He forcibly extracted himself from Scott and sat up on the edge of his own side of the bed. Rubbing a hand over his face as he got his mind back together, he glanced back at Scott. "Get you anything?"

"Aspirin. All of it. Maybe water. Then all the coffee," Scott decided with a slow nod. He wanted to grab Logan and drag him back over into an embrace, but he didn't dare. The way he felt, he'd puke on the man instead of putting the moves on him. "I might even manage to get up and get those things myself any minute now." He hated to be too optimistic when it came to hangovers. Scott rarely drank in excess, and when he did, it hit him hard. "Y'know, if I'd kept my promise after that first time I got blackout drink in college and never drank again, I'd probably feel a fuck of a lot better right now."

Logan nodded quietly, fetching aspirin and a glass of water from the bathroom and bringing the pair to Scott before setting the coffee maker to brew a pot for the pair of them. He knew that Stark's pet wall-computer would've done it for him, but asking that thing to wait on him weirded Logan out a little too much. Machines made him nervous when they were smart enough to give him sass. "Well, I think you needed a drink or seven last night," Logan said, squinting at the coffee maker and jabbing at another button before nodding with satisfaction as it gurgled to life. //No wonder Stark likes to talk to things. He put enough goddamned buttons on here for a scientific calculator.// "You'll be fine. Coffee. Maybe a banana or somethin'."

The idea of food turned his stomach, but Scott nodded anyway. "A banana sounds good," he allowed. It had hurt getting out of bed, and it hurt even more thinking about putting right everything that was wrong with him. The hangover was really the least of his problems. Scott remained almost completely silent while Logan got the coffee ready. He grabbed a banana and managed to get through both it and the coffee without throwing up. Only then did Scott finally ask, "So I feel like shit, but I still... what I said last night, what I did... I meant that. It's not like I gave up on it this morning."

Logan tensed, his pulse skipping a beat as he stared at his coffee cup. His mind raced, reaching for ideas of what to say or do in response. He wanted to just grab Scott and drag him right back into the bed, but that wasn't compatible with Scott’s hangover. Finally looking up, Logan nodded slowly. "Alright," he said. There was an awkward pause as he tried to remember the other profound things he was going to say. "I guess I just wanted to make sure. People say a lotta stuff when they're drunk. I didn't wanna hurt you. You've been through enough. Didn't wanna mess up us finally gettin’ along if it was just a six-pack talkin'." He shifted nervously. It was weird territory for him. He was used to either putting his sights on someone and getting what he wanted or getting shot down. There was never friendship or abductions hanging over the whole thing. 

Scott watched the man fidget nervously and smirked. The aspirin and coffee were doing their work. He felt half human despite the dull aching throb in his head. "You don't have to freak out. I want to give it a shot. The kissing's good. The rest might suck. I'm willing to do this on a guaranteed return on investment kind of a thing, which basically means I don't think we should freak out however this goes." Scott wasn't sure how capable he was of ignoring any feelings that came up with it all, but he also didn't want to go from one incredibly serious relationship to another just for the sake of not being alone. He was willing, for once, to see how things developed.

Logan nodded silently, his face unreadable as he left the cup of coffee, untouched, on the counter and went to sit in the kitchen chair next to Scott, facing the man fully. "I don't freak out," he countered, leaning in, his hand on one of Scott's knees as he gave him a defiant stare, more akin to the glares he'd shot the younger man when they'd first met. He was well within Scott's personal space. It was a test, in a way. He wanted to see if Scott still had the nerve he'd had when drunk. His gaze bored into blue eyes as if to say 'your move.'

Scott stared back as intensely as he could manage but broke first, grinning and then leaning in to kiss Logan almost gently. It wasn't chaste, but it was soft. "I'm not chickening out," he murmured before sealing their mouths together in an even less innocent kiss. His hands rose to trail up Logan's side in a ticklish fashion before settling on his hips. The man was solid muscle. Scott thrilled at the realization of the restrained strength against his body. "Tonight maybe I can show you." He wasn't interested in the idea of trying things out the first time feeling like a wrung out washcloth. "I'll even cook you some dinner. Make it romantic."

Logan huffed quietly as Scott put the brakes on, frustrated on a few different levels. Sober, Scott was a hell of a kisser. The contact had made Logan want to throw aside what little facade of civility he was holding onto and bend Scott over the kitchen table. The man's hands on his hips felt like they were burning holes through Logan's jeans, resting teasingly close to far more intimate areas. //Hey, he's not the one that shut things down last night,// Logan reminded himself as he leaned in, nuzzling Scott's neck and nipping at the man's stubbly chin, his hands coming to rest on Scott's waist and pulling him closer. "This makin' me wait is payback, ain't it?" he asked gruffly, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Me? Vindictive?" Scott smirked. "Yeah, probably. Mostly I just think me puking in the middle of everything would kill the mood. I'm not into that." He couldn't quite resist another kiss, though, lingering as long as he dared without losing his own tenuous control. "It's kind of weird. I've never actually had a date with somebody I could make eye contact with." The idea that when it finally did happen he could look into Logan's eyes and have the favor returned left him excited and vaguely terrified. It was a level of nudity Scott wasn't accustomed to.

Logan growled softly in frustration as Scott teased him with another kiss. "Now I *know* you're just tryin' to get payback," he said, though he smiled faintly and ran a hand through the other man's hair. He'd leaned in for another kiss when the door to his room slid open.

It took Logan a second to recognize Hawkeye. He'd only seen the man a couple of times, and this was the first seeing him in his SHIELD gear. Still more than a little irritated at having such an intimate moment interrupted, he didn't immediately put the claws away. "This better be fucking good, Barton. Don't remember givin' you the key."

"Universal access." Clint didn't seem overly concerned, even though he likely should have been. He was feeling brave with Nat there to back him up. "It's Loki."

The feral mutant retracted his claws, but looked no less pissed. "He can't wait until I've had my fucking coffee?"

Clint shook his head and gestured for the pair to follow, pausing as he got to the doorway and looking back at the two. "Uhm, were you two...?"

"Don't push it, or I'm gonna have to mess up your pretty latex kinksuit," Logan warned.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Summers. You're welcome to come along... though you're certainly not required to."

Scott considered that and finally nodded slowly. On the off chance that they headed past windows on the way, he grabbed the glasses that Coulson had found for him into his front pocket. It was insurance. Frankly he wasn't ready for a full recharge, but the universe didn't always go along with his plans. "I'll sit in."

"Good. It's best you understand the situation if nothing else." Nat turned on her heel and led the way out of the room without bothering to check whether the others would follow. They didn't have a whole lot of other choices. 

Darien gave a half wave. "Darien Fawkes. I'm apparently invisible, but I'm here. Nice to meet you."

Scott took the man's hand and shook it firmly. "You're not the only newbie in the mix, so don't feel bad. There's not a lot of downtime on a team like this."

"Done it before?"

"It's... it's familiar, yeah," Scott agreed with a glance at Logan. "Rain check on that dinner?" he asked the other man with a smirk before following Natasha out into the hallway.

At Scott's question, Clint gave Logan a faint, triumphant smirk. It was met with a glower before Logan replied, "Yeah. First thing we do when this is over is dinner. Even if it's six in the mornin'," he agreed as his gaze shifted back to Scott. He'd noted Scott grabbing the shades and it pained him to think that he might be losing the opportunity to see Scott's eyes for their first time together.


	6. Enjoying some downtime.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clint Barton takes in a new asset and then has pretty much all the sex someone can have in one evening. Seriously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who has watched Sci-Fi's Invisible Man series back in the day will recognize that I shamelessly stole Darien Fawkes from them. I don't regret it, but I'm not tagging Invisible Man since this is a wholesale bastardized version, plus he comes and goes and isn't a steady char here.
> 
> This chapter is almost pure porn. Once the porn starts, it doesn't stop until the last few paragraphs, so if you don't want the porn (this is filthy, guys. sex with multiple partners in the back room of a biker bar filthy.), you can skim over those parts or just skip this chapter. Plot will return soon, honest.

**A few days earlier**  
Going in solo had seemed like a really, really good idea. He could turn invisible, so no one would see him, and the partner they'd saddled him with was getting on Darien's last nerve. Becoming his brother's guinea pig was supposed to get him out of jail. Instead he found himself just as stifled in a whole different kind of way. He hated it. He hated every last second of it.

He just didn't hate it enough to want to die, and staring down the barrel of a mobster's gun, Darien found himself wondering how likely that was. He could quicksilver again, of course - indeed he was fighting the urge to do so as fear trickled down his spine along with a trail of sweat - but the guy could probably shoot him before he managed it. He had only wanted to conserve a little time before his next shot. The Keeper had already been on him about using quicksilver too freely, and Darien didn't want to get an earful about it when he got back from an already unapproved mission. 

"Uh, hey, so... this isn't the IKEA? I must've taken a wrong turn somewhere around-"

"Shut up," the burly man grated out. His accent was heavy, and Darien had no idea whether it was Russian or German or just really terrible English. "Quiet. No move."

It was easier said than done. Darien's fingers wriggled, and he rocked on his heels, trying to keep still and quiet. "Read any good books lately?"

Bow drawn, Clint was perched on top of the wall surrounding the grungy building, watching the two through the dingy little factory window. He'd counted seven total in the place: two inside with the new recruit, and five outside on patrol for cops. He wondered again at the wisdom of picking up a guy who had some sort of ties to another organization and seemed to be pissing off his captor pretty thoroughly, to boot. He could read the thug's face; it was a look that said he was ready to get rid of a liability just as soon as he could think of a way to justify shooting a potentially valuable captive. //A guy that can turn invisible can't even keep a bunch of idiot thugs from finding him... and Thor mocks me for not having powers.// Clint didn't need anything but instinct and long practice for what came next. The moment he'd been waiting for. The thug turned just right, glanced over his shoulder for just a split second too long, and he was on the floor with half the shaft of a carbon nanotube arrow sticking out of his forehead, the glass from the now-shattered window all around him.

Clint eliminated four of the six remaining mobsters at range before they managed to figure out where he was. Bow in one hand and combat knife in the other, the nimble agent made short work of the first as Clint tried to get to Darien since the last mobster standing had clearly decided to eliminate his prisoner. The marksman leapt into the building through the window, gaining just enough reach with his bow to clip the thug on the chin with it. He dropped the ranged weapon and lunged forward with the short knife, knocking the bulky mobster down and quickly and efficiently jamming the blade into the man's throat and coating his hands and chest with a considerable spray of blood.

Without missing a beat, Clint stood and retrieved his bow and his knife, cutting Darien’s bonds with the knife and putting it away before taking a long, appraising look at SHIELD's latest recruiting target. "The Invisible Man, I presume?" he asked, sounding less than impressed. This guy looked more like a con artist or meth junkie than a superhero. He stayed alert. From what Fury had said, this guy was as likely to flee or fight as he was to join up. But then, that was probably why Fury had sent Hawkeye in the first place: seeing hardened thugs get torn to ribbons by a guy with nothing more than a leather outfit and a bow had a tendency to convince people that running or fighting weren't in their best interests.

Darien stared blankly for a moment and finally nodded. "I'm guessing the political answer is no, but I think you already know the answer anyway, and I'm not looking to take an extra knife to the throat today." He looked around at the carnage and tried to breathe deeply. Freaking out around a crazy person would be bad. Being an asshole to a crazy person would be even worse. Finally Darien settled for asking the most obvious question on his mind, "So are you a good ninja or a bad ninja?"

Clint carefully hid the feeling of satisfaction he got from seeing the nervousness in Darien's stance. Instead, he just shrugged. "Depends on who you ask. Also depends on whether or not you come willingly." Hawkeye crossed his arms over his chest and fixed intense blue eyes on the other man. "I'm with an organization called SHIELD. We work for the government. You might've heard of the Avengers?"

"Uh, yeah," Darien agreed. He was still watching the man like he might pounce at any moment, but it was becoming less likely that the stranger was there to kill him. "I've heard, but that doesn't quite clear up why I'm involved." He wasn't an idiot. The gland, of course, was what had the blood-covered man so interested. "If your bosses know what I can do, they also know about the maintenance that goes along with this whole thing, right? The shots? Because I can come along and play nice, but..." He held up his arm and indicated the tattoo on his arm, already half red. "Once this baby goes fully into the red, I'm not such a fun guy to have around anymore. Or a more fun guy depending on your point of view."

//Probably more fun than a certain tall, green wrecking ball I know...// "They know. SHIELD's used to having strings attached when it comes to its pet experiments," Clint said. Fury hadn't seen fit to give him all the details, but he knew enough to know that Darien would need some kind of upkeep - shots, apparently - to remain useful. "The main reason SHIELD wants you is probably because they don't like the idea of someone else having you. That, and being able to disappear has its tactical advantages. The director doesn't always like to tell me everything he's thinking, so they may have something more specific in mind, too. You might want to work on that whole looking ready to piss yourself when someone gets killed thing, though." Realizing that Darien could probably use a little reassurance, Clint paused. "Agent Barton, by the way," he said, wiping most of the blood from his right hand onto his trousers before offering it for a shake. "Also known as Hawkeye."

Darien stared at the man's outstretched hand skeptically for a moment before shrugging and taking it. "Darien Fawkes. You already know that, of course." As he withdrew his hand, he allowed, "My former line of work involved a lot more breaking and entering and a lot fewer bodily fluids. Not big on blood, but I'm not too proud to admit I'd prefer it be theirs than mine." He'd worked hard to try and get past being entirely self serving, but self preservation was a basic part of humanity. Darien was pretty sure that people who didn't think of themselves first at least most of the time lacked the will to really live. "So what now? I follow you out of here and SHIELD tells the Agency to stick it where the sun don't shine?" He supposed it didn't really matter who was holding the leash if he still had to wear a damn collar.

"We'll probably do the sticking for them. As a courtesy," Clint said with a nod. From what he knew, the "Agency" was barely better than the dead thugs laying around the factory, and he had a feeling SHIELD would be making a very convincing argument for them to stay the hell away from Fawkes. "For the record, we're not in the habit of pressing people into service. I have a feeling that the Director will give you options on whether you stick with us and how closely, but right now, it won't be good for either one of us if you decide to run away." He glanced at a small device from his belt before putting it away again. "Looks like your handlers are moving in to see what's going on. If you want out of this mess, I strongly recommend you follow me. Otherwise, I have orders to put you down." He knew it sent a mixed message; threatening Darien with his life while simultaneously promising him the option of freedom, but those were his orders, and he'd given up a long time ago trying to figure out what made Fury tick.

"So then we're back to the knife in the neck thing," Darien observed before gesturing for Clint to lead the way. "Let's go." He didn't have any particular fondness for the Agency and less for the way they'd been using him. If he had a shot at better treatment with SHIELD, it seemed worth trying, though Darien's hopes were low given that he was being drawn in with threats of violence. "Is this gonna be one of those creepy things where I'm in the back of a van with a bag over my head? Because unless you're buying me a drink first, I'd rather ride up front."

Clint offered his first real smile. "A van? You do know we've got Tony Stark, right?" he asked, moving fast and without a sound as he led Darien toward their ride. Clint knew that the other man would probably be unable to keep pace with him or move as effectively in a fight, and the marksman wanted to get them the hell out of there as fast as possible. Fortunately, they had a lovely piece of Stark tech right on the other side of the wall. Clint helped haul Darien over the barrier, then followed himself, dropping from it and landing easily on the other side. As he straightened, one easy motion drew his bow and launched an arrow at an incoming Agency goon. The man, silhouetted against the moonlight, dropped soundlessly.

Eyes still scanning their surroundings, Clint reached out and tapped something that sounded solid but didn't seem to be there. A small helicopter seemed to materialize next to them, and Clint gestured to the rear seat. "Get in," he said. He waited for Darien to follow along, then hopped in and took off. Setting the autopilot, Clint glanced back at Darien. "Should be touching down in about half an hour."

"This is... swank, actually." Darien watched the other man curiously. He was hot. He also seemed a little homicidal, but he was hot. //If I have to be on a flight to crazytown, at least the scenery's nice.// "So do you guys pick up every freak you read about, or am I special?" He knew that the Avengers were interested in people with special skills, he had just never expected his to be the sort that a team of that caliber would care about. "And you guys know that apart from the gland thing, I'm just a half-assed cat burglar and con man, right? Not that I'm looking to get my ass tossed out of the helicopter, but this seems like one of those rare times when it's better to have all your cards on the table."

Clint could feel his passenger's eyes on him, though he stayed focused on his flying. "Thing is, SHIELD has a tendency to keep an eye on technology and experiments which could be used against us. Maybe you're a small time crook, but that thing in your brain? You'd probably shit yourself if you knew how many organizations want to capture you and cut your head open," he said casually. He glanced back, keen blue eyes giving the other man a long look. "That aside, I couldn't guess why Fury wants you. He may have something specific in mind, or he may just want to make sure you're safe... and that we're safe from you." Aside from questionable taste in hairstyles, the guy wasn't hard on the eyes. //Nice build, nice jaw... And you need to focus on the mission,// he reminded himself, turning his gaze back to the instrument panel. //Another ten minutes, and we can land and I can take a nice, cold shower.//

"I don't think I'd have much of a shot considering what you did back there," Darien answered with a shrug. He'd caught Clint's gaze lingering and couldn't help but smile. It never hurt to get noticed by a good-looking guy even if that guy did happen to be spattered with blood. That should have been a turn off. Darien was pretty sure that anyone with half a brain would be turned off by it. Instead it was kind of thrilling. He gave a slight shake of his head, musing at his own lack of self preservation instinct, and ventured, "Anyway, I'll play along. Haven't given the Agency much trouble yet, and those guys are douchebags."

Clint nodded. "Good call." The last few minutes of the flight were made in silence. When they landed, the sun was just beginning to come up. Clint hopped out of the aircraft and gestured to Darien to follow him into the tower. "The Director's busy dealing with a recent... fiasco. Normally, Agent Coulson would debrief you, but he's busy as well. I'll be giving you the rundown tomorrow, late morning." He led the way into the residential part of the tower. "I figure you could use some rest and a chance to clean up. We've got some clothes that will fit you and toiletries in a suite."

A few minutes' walk had them standing in front of Darien's new quarters. "You'll be staying here. You can use the rec room, gym, etcetera down the hallway," he pointed, "and the full kitchen's the other way. Kitchenette in the suite. Just don't leave this floor, or security will want some answers." He paused, giving Darien another almost awkwardly long look. "Need anything else?"

It was a moment where Darien knew he could make a move. The window was there, it was wide open, and he hated himself a little for hesitating. It wasn't that he was a prude, he just wasn't a total slut either. Well, not always. Not completely. //Who are we kidding here?// Darien half smiled and opened the door before stepping aside, making his invitation as clear as possible. "You're still kinda covered with blood. Not yours either. That's gotta be some kind of health concern. Maybe we should double up on the whole showering thing... unless you've got other plans?"

Clint knew he'd baited the other man into this, but the tickle in the back of his mind that told him that taking the invitation was stupid, unprofessional, and potentially dangerous was irritatingly persistent. Still, he'd already come up with a list of ideas of what he could do to Darien, and he felt as though he needed to check a few of the items off of it. Now. Clint didn't respond verbally, instead stepping through the door. His hand shot back and dragged Darien through with him, and he crushed the man against the wall, his hand catching Darien's jaw as he slammed their mouths together. He drew back, giving Darien a predator's stare. "Sure you're not in over your head?"

"Pretty sure I am," Darien answered, breathless and half hard already, "for about the fifth time today. Why break a good streak?" Crazy though it was, he'd made the call already. Clint might kill him. It was a distinct possibility. On the other hand, he was a lot more likely to have some fun first with whatever Clint had in mind than whatever the jackoffs in the warehouse had been thinking. Clint's bruising grip on his jaw did nothing to stop him from wanting another of the almost painfully passionate kisses. "Not gonna stop, right?"

"No," Clint replied, stepping back enough to remove his bow and quiver and tossing them aside. His left hand - still clad in an archer's glove - tugged Darien's shirt upwards and slid along the man's well-toned side while Clint used his free hand to hold Darien firmly against the wall. He leaned in for another bruising kiss, then nipped at Darien's jaw and throat. Drawing away, Clint tangled a hand in Darien's hair and used the grip to drag him to his knees. The marksman's other hand went to his belt, unclipping it as he growled, "You're gonna suck me."

It took very little motivation to get Darien on board. He reached for Clint's belt and was dragging it open and tugging down his pants and underwear in a heartbeat. Maybe he was in over his head, but he knew what he was doing. He doubted he could show Clint up, but he could definitely surprise him. Darien's mouth was on the other man's hardening cock before Clint had a chance to order the move. He sucked every last inch into his mouth and let his tongue play over the head as he withdrew. Normally Darien would have stopped to make at least one smartass remark, but the warning glint in Clint's eyes told him that would be a very bad call.

A pleasantly surprised grunt escaped Clint's lips at the aggressive move, and he braced his hand against the wall behind Darien. "Fuck..." he managed. "Damn nice mouth on you." Impatient, he thrust forward again. "You look good down there. Like the perfect little bitch." He took a few moments to use Darien's mouth before shoving the man away. "Take your clothes off."

Darien almost protested, but it dawned on him quickly that there were better things to come. He stripped his t-shirt off over his head and awkwardly managed to shimmy free of his jeans and boxer briefs as well. Unable to resist, Darien gave himself a long, slow stroke as he looked up at Clint. "Now where do you want me?" He had more than a few suggestions, but Clint struck him as a man with a plan, and Darien doubted he'd appreciate an overabundance of feedback.

Clint had to struggle to pick from among several ideas that sprang to mind. Finally, his eyes fell on the armchair in one corner of the suite's living room, and he smiled faintly before looking back at Darien. He dragged the man to his feet and over to the chair. Settling onto it, he gave his cock a few lazy strokes, leaning back and giving Darien an imperious look. He patted one leather-clad thigh with his free hand. "Straddle me," he murmured, his voice a low, commanding purr.

Darien nodded and followed, unable to keep from leering at the sight of Clint hard and ready for him. The man was hot as hell, and the leather pants didn't exactly hurt anything. The smell of sex and leather and sweat was thick in the air as he climbed onto Clint's lap and slid forward until their cocks lined up. The friction with nothing but a little precum to ease the way was almost uncomfortable, but it didn't stop Darien from wrapping a hand around them both and stroking firmly. "Something like that?"

"Fuckyes," Clint breathed, powerful hands gripping Darien's hips and guiding them in a slow rocking motion. The marksman stared into Darien's eyes, relishing the eagerness he saw there. His hands slid around to squeeze Darien's ass, then up to his waist as Clint leaned forward to lick and then none-too-gently nip at one of the man's nipples. Clint was testing the waters, but it almost seemed unnecessary. Darien seemed to be begging for all of Clint's aggressive, dominating tendencies, and the archer was more than glad to deliver.

It had been a long time since Darien found a guy who wasn't all talk. He'd picked up a few over the years who promised they liked things a little rough, that they could push the boundaries. Usually that meant at best a little light bondage. Clint, on the other hand, seemed willing to back up his crazy opening with just as extreme a finish line. He threw his head back and continued to stroke their cocks together while giving Clint obvious access to his chest. 

Clint rumbled his approval of the move, planting a few more bites on Darien's chest. His hands tangled tightly into the other man's hair, and Clint dragged Darien in for another rough kiss. His hands moved down Darien’s sides, pulling him forward a bit so that his cock was sliding between Darien's buttocks, lubing him up with precum. He fumbled in his vest and managed to find some oil intended for gear. It was the best they were going to get, and he slicked it over his cock. After a few moments, Clint grasped his aching length and pressed it against Darien's entrance. "Sit on it... go on," he rumbled, his voice husky and anxious.

It was a terrible idea if he intended to walk for the next couple of days. It really, really was. Just the feeling of Clint's cock pressing against him made Darien's breath catch, though, and he was following Clint's rough order before he could think it through. The stretch was too much, painful and aching, and he loved it. A near-sob of pleasure escaped him as he drove himself slowly downward. "Oh, fuck... fuck, that's..." He wasn't sure what it was. Darien could think of no word to describe the pleasure-pain and decided not to try. He suspected that Clint knew anyway.

"Oh... fuck, that's it," Clint growled, pressing his hips upward and watching the look on Darien's face. His shaft throbbed as it slowly sank into the nearly painful tightness of his partner's body, and the grip on Darien's hips tightened to the point of bruising. He loved it. Clint loved the power he felt, having that much control, keeping his uniform on as Darien writhed, exposed, on top of him, and enjoyed every second of it. "Mmm... god, look at you. You fucking love this." His hand tangled in Darien's hair once more, tugging until the man's gaze locked with his own. "Tell me you're mine," he ordered.

Darien shivered at the intensity of Clint's gaze but found himself agreeing, "Yeah... yours. I'm yours," almost immediately. The words spilled forth of their own volition, but Darien didn't regret them. He was pretty sure he wouldn't have regretted anything that kept Clint interested in fucking him. His muscles clenched down hard around Clint's cock in a silent plea for more movement. Darien was smart enough not to demand anything, though. He was far gone, but not so far gone that he was ready to risk pissing Clint off just to cum. Not yet.

"Good," Clint purred, his breath hitching as he felt Darien's muscles tighten around him. Almost as if he could hear Darien's desires, he murmured, "You don't cum until I tell you to." He couldn't blame the other man. He wanted more, too. Reluctantly, he shoved Darien away, onto the plushly carpeted floor. He didn't allow the separation to last long, though, more or less pouncing on his partner. He nipped roughly at Darien's lower lip as he guided his cock to the man's entrance once more, his hooded gaze fixed on Darien's face. He was silent for a moment as a drop of sweat trickled along his jawline, then, "Beg me for it."

It had hurt like a bitch being shoved away and then falling to the floor to boot, and it took Darien a moment to catch his breath. "Fuck," he sighed only to realize he was being asked something. The words reverberated slowly through his skull, and he forced himself to look up into Clint's burning gaze. The sight alone drew a groan from him, and his hips shifted in a desperate plea for more. "Fuck me," he requested only to realize that wasn't nearly enough. "I need your cock inside me. I need you to fuck me so hard I can't walk tomorrow." 

Clint allowed himself a faint but earnestly pleased smile. The words cut right through him, driving his arousal through the roof. Darien was perfect for his mood that night. The man knew how to let him take the lead without simply laying there like a worthless ragdoll. Too many times Clint had found an eager sub who either couldn't deal with what he would dish out or had no spark to them whatsoever. The archer leaned in for a deep, demanding kiss as he pushed forward, his hand clamped on Darien's hip and pinning him to the floor. With barely a pause, Clint began thrusting in a perfectly animal rhythm.

It hurt enough for a beat that Darien found blackness swimming at the edges of his vision. It would have been easy to pass out, but he didn't want to miss anything. Instead he took a deep breath and surfaced again with a low groan. The sound was lost in Clint's mouth. It didn't matter. Clint didn't need to hear him to know he was getting off on every last shift of the man's body. His own hard cock trapped between them made it clear that he loved it. It hurt like hell, but it also drove him half crazy with pleasure. Darien's whole body burned from the inside out.

"Fuck, that's it. Take it, you little bitch," Clint growled against Darien's throat. He rested his head against the other man's shoulder, falling silent save for his panting breaths. Eventually pushing himself back up on his hands, he locked gazes once again with his partner, starting to thrust harder and faster. He was soon moaning with every movement, savoring every shift and sound that Darien made as he pounded the other man into the floor. He came with a growl and a curse, biting hard into Darien's shoulder.

Darien cried out as well, his whole body shaking as he came hard with Clint's cock pressed deep inside him and the man's teeth speared into his neck. It was amazing. The sounds he made were entirely incoherent. His own fingernails dug into Clint's shoulders, and he couldn't even remember when they'd risen up to find hold there. As Darien lay panting through the aftermath, he found himself wondering why in the hell he hadn't been trolling crazy spy organizations for hookups all along. 

Clint relished the stabbing pain of Darien's nails digging into his shoulders, the primal cries of the other man's climax. He hadn't given Darien permission to cum, but Clint couldn't bring himself to care. He gave a few last, shallow thrusts before unceremoniously drawing away. He sagged back against the nearby armchair, still panting softly. He watched Darien silently for several moments, taking in the other man's debauched state, and he smiled. "You were good," he rumbled, standing. He took off his archer's glove and arm guard, then stripped off his armored vest and pants. He'd get the blood off of them later. "I'm gonna shower. You?"

"Yeah," Darien agreed, blinking sleepily. Frankly he would just as soon have fallen asleep in the middle of the floor, but he needed to get himself cleaned up. Smelling like sex only sounded sexy. In truth it involved a lot of things sticking to things they shouldn't and a whole lot more grossness than he wanted to deal with. Darien tried to ignore the protesting twinge from his backside as he hauled himself up off of the floor with a groan and stumbled into the bathroom to turn on the hot water. "You were too. Good, I mean. Excellent. Hell, we both know that was hot as hell. If I was coherent enough to shut up right now, I would."

Clint quirked an impish smile at Darien before pressing another possessive kiss to his lips. "I can help with that," he purred, looking oddly pleased. It was tempting to shove Darien against the wall and fuck him stupid all over again, but he had plans for the evening. "Let's get cleaned up. We're going out."

It didn't take Clint long to clean himself up and head down the hall to get dressed. He pulled on a pair of neatly creased black cargo pants, boots, a button-down shirt and a leather jacket, then headed back down to check on Darien’s progress. "There're some extra clothes in the closet if you need anything. SHIELD got some stuff in your size."

"Uh, okay," Darien answered. He was amazed and creeped out to find a closet full of things precisely fitted to him. He chose a pair of jeans and a dark button down with no idea where they were going or why. It seemed like a good sign that Clint wasn't sick of him and that he wasn't afraid to go out in public either. It meant Clint didn't think he was going to run the first chance he got. Frankly Darien had nowhere to run to. They both knew it. "What exactly is the plan?" he asked as he pulled on a pair of docs that, yes, fit him with disturbing perfection.

"A bar," Clint replied without elaborating. He lead the way to the garage and hopped onto his motorcycle, gesturing for Darien to get on the back. He knew it was probably a little mean considering the abuse Darien's rear had just been through, but it was the only wheels Clint had, and the archer wasn't really concerned with Darien's comfort anyway.

A few minutes of white-knuckle riding and zipping in and out of car lanes had them in front of a nondescript building with a neon sign out front that simply said "bar." Clint dismounted and offered Darien a grin. "Time for a beer." He lead the way inside.

The place was loud and somewhat dark, but didn't seem terribly grungy. There was a fair number of guys wearing biker leathers, and no shortage of guys wearing leather in general. A bald-shaven barkeep full of piercings and tattoos plopped a microbrew in front of Clint without prompting, then regarded Darien blankly. "What's Edward havin'?"

"I think that was a Twilight joke. It was, wasn't it? Shit." Darien sighed as he gingerly sat down on one of the barstools. It wasn't a good idea to scream "bottom" in a bar full of guys in leather, but he couldn't really help it. "Beer. Something that doesn't taste like sweat socks. Thanks." He looked to Clint as the bartender selected a bottle and handed it over. "You could've warned me I was going to look like a townie trying to go clubbing."

"Nah," the bartender returned sarcastically. "You just look like an Edward."

"I like the way you look," Clint returned, "or I would've told you to change." It didn't cross his mind that Darien might not want to be told what to wear. A few guys had glanced their way. In truth, Clint was kind of small compared to a lot of the guys sitting around, and he had no doubt that a few were sizing him up for a bit of bottoming of his own. What caught his attention more, though, was the number of glances Darien was getting. He smiled inwardly to himself. He did love a good fight.

The whole thing was starting to seem like a bad idea. Darien appreciated getting out, and the beer was actually pretty good considering the way the place looked, but he was getting decidedly uneasy about the men circling them. He wasn't sure whether they wanted to drag him or Clint back to the bathroom for a quickie, but their intentions weren't subtle. Finally a guy threw himself down on the stool next to Darien and leered at him with a mouth full of half-rotted teeth. "Hey, pretty, you wanna spend some time with a real man?"

"Yeah, I sure do," Darien answered brightly before jerking his thumb toward Clint, "which is why I brought one."

The bar regulars had all fallen silent, intently watching the scene. Everyone that had been there a time or two knew better than to mess with Clint or anyone he brought with him. But there were always tourists.

Clint put his beer down but didn't look at the interloper directly. "That's mine, ugly."

"Yeah, runt? See if I care."

Clint grunted and nodded as if he'd expected the response. He pushed himself away from the bar and stood with a sigh. "I tried," he said, placing himself between the bruiser and Darien. "Fuck off."

The bruiser smirked. "Make me."

The man barely got the words out. A barely traceable flicker of motion, and there was a knife in Clint's hand. He made a few quick slashes across the other man's face, following him as he stood and tried to back away. Clint tangled his free hand in the man's hair and held the knife to his throat. "Next time, I take your life," he growled. It was a lie, mostly, but no less effective for it. A deft flick of the wrist, and he sheared off a good sized chunk of the thug's ear before shoving him away. The whole attack had taken seconds, and Clint barely looked stressed for it. He glanced casually around the bar as if making sure no one else had anything to add, but most had the sense to avoid eye contact, and no one looked remotely interested in even helping the defeated thug up off the floor.

Clint settled calmly back down next to Darien and rested a hand on the man's knee, giving it a possessive squeeze as he picked up his beer again, looking oddly content and pleased with himself.

Darien found himself staring at the thug as he scrambled up, looked around in a wild panic, then spat on the floor and all but ran out the front door. "Jesus..." He jumped at the feeling of Clint's hand settling on his knee and managed an uneasy laugh. "So, uh, I'm guessing that is your idea of a good time?" He was pretty sure he was freaked out, but underneath that, there was something else. Darien's adrenaline was flowering, and he found himself wondering if the bathrooms were too disgusting to be worth checking out for a quickie after all.

"Among other things," Clint affirmed with a faint grin. He glanced around the bar as he set his beer down. He slid his hand higher up Darien's leg and leaned in, letting his breath waft across the other man's neck. "Also kinda like taking my date into the back room, tying him up, and giving him a nice, slow fuck in the throat... maybe with an audience. Show everyone who you belong to," he purred, his hand sliding to the back of Darien's neck.

That definitely should have set off warning bells. Instead Darien heard himself moan a little bit too loudly considering there were other people around. "Uh... that... you... really?" It was dirty talk. It had to be. Because outside of porn, people didn't do that, did they? //And outside of sci-fi, they dion't turn invisible. And outside of spy flicks, no one could kill a half a dozen guys in under a minute without breaking a sweat.// "Oh, fuck, you mean it. Yeah, okay. Only live once, right?"

Clint grinned wickedly and gave Darien's cock a squeeze through his slacks. He kissed a trail up to Darien's jaw and planted a rough bite there, then threaded his fingers into Darien's hair. "C'mon." He dragged Darien toward the back rooms at a quick pace, gesturing to a couple of his acquaintances in the bar as he went. Both of the other men sported military haircuts, lean muscle, and a fair number of tattoos. As Clint stepped into one of the available rooms, he bent Darien over the only "furniture" in it: a low, narrow padded table. The other two men quickly tied Darien's hands out to his sides, leaving him face-down and more or less helpless. Pleased with the view, Clint stepped close to Darien, running his hand through the other man's hair and then using it to tug Darien's head up and smirk down at him. "You look good like this."

Positive that he'd somehow managed to walk from the bar into the pages of a freaky leather magazine, Darien was dazed by the expert way Clint trussed him up. His partner had done this before. Clint had dragged people into the seedy back room and fucked them there more than once. It was terrifying and sexy all at once, and Darien tried to catch his breath. "Wh-what, uh, what exactly is the plan here?" he managed in a voice that didn't sound any steadier than he felt. At least staying on his feet wasn't a concern since he was bound and tied off kneeling. His gaze strayed from Clint to the two other men, who were smirking at him. They apparently knew what was coming, and his stomach twisted with a heady mix of fear and excitement.

Clint chuckled softly. "You sound like you think I'm gonna slit your throat when I'm done with you," he said, crouching in front of Darien to make eye contact. He grabbed the other man's chin and pressed a rough kiss to his lips, then patted his cheek and stood without confirming or denying the idea. He stepped to one side of the table, running his fingertips up Darien's spine before reaching under his captive to undo Darien's belt. Clint could tell that Darien got off on the sense of danger, and if there had been any doubt, his hard cock would have dispelled the thoughts. Clint tugged Darien's jeans down to his knees, then ran his hand up the back of one exposed thigh to Darien's ass. Winding up, he gave the firm muscle a sharp slap that held nothing back. "Who do you belong to?" The question was quiet, intense, but didn't invite any backtalk.

At first Darien couldn't reply. He couldn't think. Frankly he wasn't sure he was awake. It struck him then that kinky as his dreams were, this went above and beyond. Swallowing hard and using the stinging in his ass to remind him that he needed to react appropriately, Darien managed, "You." He hadn't even known Clint two days before. It was surreal to be tied up in front of strangers professing that the man held some kind of ownership over him, temporary or not. It wasn't bad, though. It wasn't bad at all. The way his cock strained for attention was a testament to that even if Darien had no idea what the hell was going on. "Belong to you," he clarified in case his first dazed response wasn't good enough.

"Good boy," Clint purred, rubbing his hand over the quickly reddening handprint he'd left. He glanced at one of his silent observers. "Jason." A flick of his eyes was all it took to communicate what he wanted. He moved to squat in front of Darien once more, roughly tangling his hand in the other man's hair and giving him a cocky smirk as Jason unceremoniously spread Darien's ass cheeks and began slowly licking his entrance. "Don't worry," Clint purred. "We're just gonna fuck your brains out." Clint had to fight to keep from moaning just thinking about what he was going to do to the other man. 

Darien couldn't really catch his breath, too terrified and excited to even try. He wanted to look behind him to get a better idea of who the hell the stranger rimming him was, but Clint's grip on his hair made it clear that wasn't in the cards. He looked up instead at the man currently pulling the strings. They were all there for Clint, ultimately. The other guys might have a go at every guy that came into the back room, but they were taking all their cues from Clint. And he was Clint's. It was a strangely comforting thought. If Clint wanted him dead, he would already be dead, which meant that most of the existing possibilities were of an equally dark but probably more entertaining variety.

"Speechless." Clint looked pleased with his observation. Standing, he unfastened his pants, letting his half-hard cock press against Darien's cheek. "Start licking," he rumbled, his own heart rate spiking. "Get me good and hard so I can fuck your throat... nice and deep." It was difficult to keep his cool. Darien looked perfect, tied down and eager. 

Darien was sure that he should say no or try to resist if only to put on a good show. He should show some sign of having a spine. Instead he turned his head and flicked his tongue over the head of Clint's cock. He focused all of his energy and attention on getting Clint hard. He got so lost in the act that he almost forgot how bizarre it was to have a complete stranger rimming him while another watched him sucking off a guy who was barely more than a stranger. All of it probably meant he was losing his mind, but Darien found that he couldn't bring himself to care when he was already hard as a rock and feeling pretty good about the evening.

Clint let out a shuddering breath, cursing softly as Darien did all the right things to his aching shaft. "Fuck, that's... mm... perfect," he growled, his hips thrusting slightly with each stroke of the other man's tongue. A sudden, well-timed shift, and he was pushing his cock slowly into Darien's mouth, his hand tangled snuggly in the man's hair. "That's it..." Clint glanced up and gave the man rimming Darien a quick nod. Just as Clint started to press his shaft down Darien's throat, Jason replaced his tongue with lubed up cock, leaving Darien speared nicely between them.

Darien groaned around the man's cock. It hurt like hell, but not in a bad way. He forced himself to breathe through his nose as best he could and finally found a rhythm that let him relax, get oxygen, and even move a bit. He cast his gaze up and found himself even more turned on as he took in the look of abject enjoyment on Clint's face. Squeezing his eyes closed, he braced himself as best he could and tried to move along with the men pressed into his mouth and ass. The pain ebbed as sheer sensation washed everything away, and soon Darien was moaning in time with Jason's rough thrusts.

Clint could feel his peak nearing and was so focused on Darien's hot mouth wrapped around him that he almost didn't notice Alan, the other observer, approaching from his position leaning against the wall.

"You gonna let me in on this?" The question was borderline impatient, but Alan made only fleeting eye contact, subtly indicating he was still subject to Clint's will.

Reluctantly, Clint drew away. He dragged Alan into a rough kiss, deftly freeing the man's cock of his pants and underwear before growling. "Fuck his mouth, then."

Alan was quick to grasp a handful of Darien's hair and present the man with his cock. "Go on. You heard him."

Meanwhile, Clint untied Darien's arms, then unceremoniously shoved Jason away. Before Jason could protest, Clint gave him a cold stare. "You know what to do." While Jason silently climbed under the table, kneeling in front of Darien, Clint positioned himself where Jason had stood. Wordlessly penetrated Darien's well-used ass while Jason wrapped his lips around Darien's cock.

Darien felt drunk though he hadn't had nearly enough alcohol to claim that. He was drunk on something else - on sensation, on the pain and pleasure and the bizarre situation. He was honestly glad to have Alan taking what he needed because Darien knew that he couldn't have managed a decent rhythm to save his life. Between Clint's cock rubbing relentlessly against his prostate and Jason's hot mouth on his cock Darien was long past overwhelmed. He came all too soon, his hips jerking back against Clint's while his muscles grasped instinctively at the man's length.

Clint gasped as Darien's muscles clenched around his aching cock, slamming forward and cumming hard as Alan found his release almost simultaneously. As the last tremors of his orgasm passed, he untied Darien's hands and then sagged back against the wall behind him. With a gesture, the other two men in the room put their clothing back together and left without a word. Clint offered Darien a faint smirk, sagging to the floor and letting his head rest against the wall with an intoxicated-looking grin. "Have fun?" he asked casually.

Darien found the floor with a groan and almost sat down only to wince and decide to just lie down instead. It still reminded him just how sore he was, but it gave some relief. "Yeah. I think it means I'm mentally deficient, but I had fun." Darien wondered what sort of craziness had led him to be so messed up. //At least I'm not the only one in the room who's crazy.// "And here you didn't strike me as the kinda guy to share," Darien drawled as he propped himself up on his elbows to look at Clint.

Clint smirked and then patted Darien's cheek as he stood. "Don't think I share just anywhere, anytime," he said with a faintly off-kilter smirk. Reaching down, he tangled his fingers into Darien's hair and pulled him into a possessive kiss. "Ready to head back to HQ? Maybe have a couple more beers and a BJ, then hit the sack?"

"Yeah. Sounds good." Darien felt shell-shocked by the whole experience. It hadn't been bad - quite the opposite, it had been great, but weird. At least without any external forces at play, things could get back to normal. They were both quiet on the drive back, and that suited Darien just fine. It gave him time to think about the strange new setting of his life. They went back to Clint's room just as Darien had expected. He was starting to think that Clint never did anything that he wasn't in control of, which was alternately exciting and disconcerting. He was so in his head that he didn't at first notice the gorgeous redhead draped in one of Clint's chairs.

"Out a bit late, aren't you?" Natasha couldn't help but smile. She always found it fascinating to see what sort of toys Clint brought home when left to his own devices. Sometimes his choices were questionable at best, but from time to time he found someone genuinely intriguing. 

Clint tensed and, for a split second, moved as if to grab the bow that wasn't on his back. He let out a breath at the sight of Natasha, straightening as he tilted his head. "Nat," he said tensely. He felt the slightest twinge of unease and did his best to hide it. Anyone that knew him as well as Nat did would have been hard put to miss the flash of emotion. His 'relationship' with her wasn't anything like serious, much as he'd have liked it to be, but he couldn't help but feel faintly guilty every time she caught him with someone else. He could see the amusement on her face and did a valiant job of collecting himself. "Not any later than usual. Hoping for a 'nightcap'?"

"Always. Just came off an assignment. I came home to a whole new file. New blood for the team. Welcome." Natasha unfolded herself from the chair, all leather and curves, and smiled when it got a reaction from even Darien. Of course, he looked terrified instead of lustful, but she could work with that too. "I didn't know you'd already taken him for a test drive, but that means he should be easier to deal with.” 

With every second that passed, Darien felt like he'd walked in on something he shouldn't be a part of. "I can... go. You two seem like you need to catch up."

"Don't worry, he isn't mine. Not always. We don't have that kind of arrangement." Nat crossed the room and smirked at Clint before grabbing him by the back of the neck and hauling him into a punishing kiss. "I know how to share."

Darien tensed immediately when the woman touched Clint. It was a strange situation to be in. He knew that Clint wasn't invested, not really, wasn't interested in more than a good fuck. When the striking redhead pulled away, he didn't see a great deal more affection there, which made him wonder just what or who Clint really was interested in. "I don't do girls. Just for the record." 

Nat arched one eyebrow. "And I don't do boys, only men. You're safe."

Clint's breath huffed out through his nostrils as Nat drew away, watching her with hungry, chastened eyes, though a moment later he smirked faintly at the jab she made at Darien. It was a complete turnaround from the self-assured, reckless bravado Clint had shown Darien so far. He wanted her, then and there, but he knew better than to make demands. He settled for closing the renewed distance between himself and the leather-clad redhead, close enough to let her feel the heat from his body. Remembering then that Nat wasn't the only one in the room and that Darien had suggested leaving, the archer looked sharply at the other man. "I didn't say you could go," he snapped, his gaze immediately hardening. 

"Neither did I," Nat agreed with the faintest hint of a smile. "Sit down. Get comfortable. I think you need to see this." More gently, she assured, "I won't tell you to leave him alone. I won't tell him to leave you alone. I'm just telling you that until I'm done with him tonight, he's mine... unless I say otherwise."

Darien swallowed hard and nodded. He'd never encountered anyone like the pair of them. They both had the ability to own a room just by entering it. He wasn't sure if he liked or hated it. Instead of trying to figure it out, he took the chair Nat had vacated and rubbed suddenly-sweaty palms on his jeans.

"Good boy. You might be useful after all." Nat turned her attention to Clint. "Tell me what you want. We both know I won't necessarily give it to you... but tell me."

Clint swallowed hard. Nat taking control of a situation always had the same confusing effect on him: he wanted to try and wrest control away from her, and at the same time he wanted to beg her to put him on a leash and make him her pet. He didn't let any of it show, his posture ready but neutral, more befitting a combat situation than their more intimate setting. What he really wanted was to cup her cheek in his hand, kiss her gently, and make love to her all night. Knowing that was out of the question, he carefully placed a hand on her hip and looked into her eyes. "Let me go down on you. For starters," he said, somehow keeping his voice level.

Nat smiled, the expression uncharacteristically warm given the situation. "I always like the way you think." As if reading his mind, she reached out and stroked a hand over Clint's cheek, her nails dragging lightly over the skin. She stepped away and met Darien's gaze briefly before unzipping her suit. It peeled away with surprising ease to reveal that the woman wore nothing more than a thong beneath. She climbed up onto the bed and looked back over her shoulder to see if Clint was watching. Naturally, he was. "Come here." Once she was situated comfortably on the bed against the throw pillows she had picked out herself, Nat parted her long legs and smirked. "I don't enjoy waiting."

Darien shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He'd always believed that when scary people got scared, it was time to bolt. Watching Clint submit so easily to the woman made him wonder exactly how many men she'd killed with her scary mind powers. On the other hand, watching Clint submit was also kind of hot.

Shaken from his admiration of the woman's graceful form thus bared, Clint did as he was told, kicking off his biker boots and shrugging off his leather jacket, letting it hit the floor with a hard thump. He still had a close-fitting sleeveless crew neck on and his biking leathers, but he was too anxious to get to his intended target to worry about shucking off anything else. Kneeling between Nat's graceful legs, he dared to imply a little affection by lightly kissing her belly as his calloused fingers hooked onto the barely-there strings of the thong and tugged them slightly downward. His lips teased at the top of her panties before he moved lower, his tongue stroking her sex through the silky fabric of the thong.

Natasha's eyes never closed. She watched the man's every movement with predatory intensity. Clint was beautiful when he was needy. Much as she enjoyed seeing him naked, Nat appreciated the fact that he was too eager to bother getting naked. The more she thought, the more she decided that unzipping might be sufficient for the night anyway. The idea of wrapping her legs around his leather-clad thighs sounded fantastic. She spared no attention at all for the man watching them. Darien would either enjoy the show or Clint could make it up to him later. She wasn't cold so much as attuned to her own needs and, to a lesser degree, to Clint's. "You look beautiful like that. I love you on your knees."

Clint felt a twinge of satisfaction at the praise, but he knew better than to make too much of a show of it. Instead, he flicked his intense blue eyes up at her as he nipped at the inside of her thigh in mock defiance. He then kissed his way back to her waiting heat, his tongue shoving aside the scant fabric of her thong and slowly teasing at her entrance. His fingers remained tangled in the waistband of the panties, and after several moments he tugged down, settling back on his knees for a moment as he helped her slide one leg from the undergarment. He wasted little time in resettling between Nat's thighs, his tongue dragging over her outer lips before slowly delving between them and dragging over her clit. 

Nat let out a sigh. She heard a sound from the room and finally looked up. Her eyes locked with Darien's, and she smiled slowly. "He's very, very good, isn't he?" It wasn't worth asking about what Clint had done for Darien. She knew. She knew precisely how the man was with his other lovers, how he treated them and the walls he built around himself. Though she and Clint were lovers in a less than romantic sense of the word, Natasha felt pride in how deeply he let her in. Whatever else she thought about Clint, he was without question her own closest friend and confidante. She slid her fingers into Clint's hair. "Enjoy the show. We don't give out many tickets."

Darien swallowed hard. He couldn't resist letting his gaze move down to Clint's tongue curling against Nat's sex. Seeing her naked did less than nothing for him, but watching Clint work was sexy as hell. 

Clint practically purred at Nat's touch, the muscles in his arms flexing prominently as he shifted his weight. He licked his way lower, his tongue dipping into her wetness as he slid a hand under one of her knees, pushing her leg up to give him better access. He lapped loudly at her insides, squirming a bit against the bed as he thought of being inside her. His cock was beginning to strain against tight leather pants, but he ignored his own desire, revelling instead in his chance to please the beautiful woman before him. He relished the way she taunted Darien, the idea of the man watching with no chance at getting to play. 

Sometimes when they met, both of them so often leaving for other ventures soon after, Nat couldn't bring herself to draw things out. She demanded more the second they came together. She enjoyed the harsh, quick times with Clint fucking her against the nearest wall or over the closest table. Times like this were nice too, times when they had enough leeway to enjoy it. "I'm going to cum at least once before you get to fuck me," Nat said, her attention back to Clint. "Keep that up and you'll get what you want in no time. We both know I can wait as long as it takes, but I'd really rather not wait."

Taking the words to heart, Clint shifted his weight to one elbow, leaving his other hand free so that he could slide two fingers into her. He licked at her around his digits before his tongue slowly worked back up to her clit. He teased the nub slowly for a few moments before his lips closed over it, and he began to suckle at it intently. His fingers kept a steady rhythm, thrusting inside her as he worked. These slow, rare moments with Nat were something he rarely got, and Clint wasn't about to give anything less than every effort he had to make it perfect. Their wilder, rougher fucks were fun, but he always found himself wishing they had more time and feeling as if the woman had been torn from him as she so often left with barely a kiss on the cheek and a "thanks."

Nat had been wet before Clint even started - just the kisses and knowing how hot he'd be after their separation had been enough to get her revved up. Feeling his clever fingers working her open was the icing on the cake. Far from passive, Nat moved against Clint almost as much as he moved himself. Soon she shuddered, her body throbbing with the first flowing waves of climax. Nat cursed in Russian and even gasped Clint's name in a husky groan while her legs tightened around the man's shoulders. 

Though it did nothing to convince him that girls were anymore interesting than they had been an hour before, Darien wasn't immune to the smell of sex in the air or the way Nat writhed on the bed. From a purely aesthetic point of view, the woman was stunning. He licked his lips, unconsciously rubbing the growing erection pressing against the fly of his jeans.

The sound of his name on Nat's lips sent a jolt through Clint that was equal parts arousal and pride. The feeling of her squeezing his shoulders made him all the more desperate to feel those strong, supple thighs around his waist, and Clint groaned as the woman's juices flooded his mouth.

As Nat relaxed, Clint sat up a little, unceremoniously wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and glancing at Darien. He gave the man a knowing smirk. //Nobody's that gay,// he thought to himself, watching his newest toy fondle himself. Nat in the throes of passion was a sight to behold, and being anything like human was qualifier enough to find the show arousing. He braced his hands on either side of her waist, but he knew better than to do anything too presumptuous. Instead, he submissively brushed his cheek against her stomach as if silently asking for whatever pleasure she was willing to throw his way.

Natasha allowed herself time to enjoy every last quake of the climax before she returned her attention to Clint. "Now I want you to fuck me, and don't even think about cumming until I say that you can." She waited until Clint gave a nod of confirmation before spreading her legs wide and inviting him to crawl up between them. Often Nat preferred less traditional poses, but for the night she was satisfied to watch Clint's face as he fell apart. The sight of his eyes naked at the moment of release was something to see. "And don't you dare take those pants off." Nat's toes ran up over the leather.

Even Darien's breath caught at the sight of her pale skin against the leather encasing Clint's muscular legs. The two of them were living pornography - he just wished Nat was a little less female. //Then again, if it was that hot I probably would've cum in my pants already.//

Clint moaned as he unzipped, finally letting his aching shaft free of the confining leather. He liked the idea of fucking her more or less fully clothed, and the feeling of her legs and feet running over his legs through the leather. Wrapping his hand around the throbbing flesh, he dragged the head of his cock up and down her slick opening a few times before he could no longer stand the temptation. He forced himself to go slow with every ounce of his being as he guided himself into her, his hands bracing on either side of her chest as he buried himself into her tight, welcoming heat. Clint panted desperately as he slid home, his face coming to rest against her neck. His hand slid up her side to cup one of her breasts and play with the nipple as he began to thrust slowly.

Clint's hard cock pressing into her and the supple leather under her legs drove Nat absolutely crazy. Her sex throbbed with the aftershocks of her orgasm, and she knew it wouldn't take much to get her there all over again. "Slow. Very slow," Nat demanded. Her tone was softer than before but no less demanding. Nat knew precisely what she wanted, and she knew Clint could give it to her. His love of their slower sessions wasn't lost on her. He'd followed all of her orders perfectly. For once he deserved to get exactly what he wanted too.

Darien stroked himself slowly along with Clint's desperate moans. He'd never actually jerked off live to one of his lovers fucking someone else. It was hotter than he would've expected.

Clint rumbled, nuzzling Nat's throat as he focused on his breathing and keeping his pace slow and deliberate. He wanted to fuck the woman with wild abandon, but he wanted the session to last even more. Either way, he wasn't going to do anything Nat hadn't given permission for. Drawing away from her throat, he pressed another kiss to the woman's lips, the contact hot and purely sexual at first. Without thinking about it, Clint eased up after a moment, and the kiss became almost tender before he remembered his place in their relationship. As if the tender contact hadn't happened, he pulled back and lightly tugged at Nat's full lower lip, bright blue eyes locked with hers. His lips parted with arousal even as hooded, intense eyes watched his lover, relishing the look of her so obviously turned on.

The only times when it hurt to be with Clint were the ones when she could feel how much he wanted something she couldn't give. Nat had given up any aspirations of love at a young age. They'd never come back. No matter what he said, Clint had never lost them. He carried his hope on his sleeve. She locked her gaze with his and reached up, her hand stroking over his cheek. Love was beyond her grasp, but affection wasn't. Nat wasn't in love with Clint, but she loved him more than any person on earth besides herself. "Perfect," she praised while Clint's hips moved at a languid pace.

The archer closed his eyes and leaned into Nat's hand, relishing the praise, before grasping her wrist and placing a kiss on her palm. He kissed his way down the sinuous limb to her collarbone. Looking up at her with hungry eyes, he slowly closed his lips around her nipple, tugging at it lightly with his teeth before he closed his eyes once more and suckled at the hardened flesh. His hips still kept a steady rhythm, though it was getting more and more difficult to refrain from picking up the pace.

Natasha smiled openly as she saw the faint traces of strain around Clint's eyes. In the field, Clint's poker face was second to none. In bed it was absolutely terrible. She drew him down for a long, lingering kiss. She was getting closer by minute, so it was an easy choice to let Clint off his leash. "Now I want you to fuck me as hard as you can. Make me cum for you." 

Darien was pretty sure someone sounding as sexy as Nat did in that moment should be illegal. If he hadn't already been working to get off, he would've started then. He bit his lip to keep from making any sound that might interrupt the pair. The truth was that he wanted to see the end of the show too.

Clint was amazed that he didn't lose it right then and there. Nat was hot as hell in any situation. When she started talking dirty, Clint was always amazed that he managed to avoid completely losing his mind or his stamina. As a drop of sweat rolled down his nose, he braced his hands against the mattress and began hammering hard into the woman. "Nat," he panted, relishing the woman's slick heat as she squeezed him perfectly. He'd all but forgotten their audience, lost in the feel of the woman pressed against him. 

It didn't take long for the hard thrusts slamming against her g-spot coupled with Clint's pelvis grinding against her clit to get Nat the rest of the way there. She'd been on her way from the moment he slid home. Natasha played her second climax for all that it was worth. Good as it felt, she wanted Clint to know precisely how well he'd done and screamed her pleasure loud enough to assure that anyone with a room close enough would get an earful. 

Darien gave up on restraint and groaned as he sped up his strokes. It only took a few more before he came hard over his own hand while watching Clint's leather-bound ass slamming forward into Natasha's willing body.

Clint followed Nat quickly into release, his cry of pleasure mingling with hers. Gasping for air, he sagged to the side, flopping bonelessly into the mattress. Still gasping, his eyes drifted to where Darien sat and he smirked faintly before closing his eyes. He needed to get out of the sweat soaked leathers, but at the moment standing sounded like WAY too much effort. "Fuck, I needed that," he panted, feeling sleep tugging at him already. He tensed bodily at the tone of the comms system, though. 

"Barton."

"Director... What can I... do for you at... this ridiculous hour?"

"Are you working out in your quarters?"

"You could say that," Clint dead panned. "I assume you're not just calling to ask me about my daily routine."

"It's Loki."

Clint felt his stomach clench in fear, and he sat up like a shot next to Nat, face noticeably pale. "Sir, maybe I - "

"No. You're not sitting this out. You handled it before. Briefing room. On the double." The computer chirped to indicate a closed transmission.

"Shit..."

"Mind filling me in?" Darien ventured as he zipped himself up and used a nearby discarded shirt to wipe off his hand. There was apparently no rest for the wicked, and he felt no need to pretend to be scenery when shit was obviously going down. 

Natasha stretched, forcing herself to be entirely casual about the matter. "Just an old piece of garbage that needs to be taken out again." Her gaze cut to Clint, checking his face and seeing him looking like he was going to throw up. "Wipe down, put clothes on. I'm not in the mood to have my city broken again." Nat looked over at Darien, appraising how quickly he'd gotten himself together and nodded her approval. "You too. If you're going to join us, you may as well start now."


	7. Telling the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony and Steve meet the press and go on a proper(ish) date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though there's nothing super harsh, there are definite homophobic leanings during the press conference. Reporters are dicks.

**A few days earlier**  
The next morning Steve woke first. He'd expected as much. Serum aside, he tended to rise early, a trait he knew Tony did not share. He slipped carefully from the bed, unable to resist pressing a quick kiss to Tony's shoulder, before dressing and returning to his own room. A quick run and a hot shower later found Steve in the kitchen making coffee. As, generally, the first to rise, he usually tried to make sure there was a pot on before everyone else began crawling out of their respective corners of the tower. Jarvis could have scheduled it all out, but Steve preferred the ritual of handling it himself.

Clint tended to rise early as well, but he made it a point not to shine. He'd had his morning workout and shower but still looked ready to kill anyone who tried to be overly cheerful with him. Wearing a pair of beat-up jeans, a white t-shirt, and a baggy gray zip-up hoodie left hanging sloppily open, he slouched into the kitchen and made a beeline for the coffee. He put a pile of sugar in it, skipped the cream, and settled at the bar. A few sips into his coffee, he seemed to animate a bit more and glanced at Steve. "Morning. Thanks for the coffee," he said, trying to not stare too long at the other man. He had no delusions that Steve would be interested in a roll, and frankly got his fair share of sex from Nat, but anyone with a pulse could appreciate the view. Honestly, Clint had a difficult time imagining anyone not being at least peripherally interested. As he started to drag his attention back to his coffee, Clint hesitated.

Perception was one of Clint's gifts. Maybe he had no superpowers per se, but a long life of marksmanship, combat training, and field experience had given him razor-sharp instincts when it came to details and signals. "You seem like you've got a lot on your mind," he noted. It was a subtle hint: you can talk or you can agree and leave it at that.

For a moment Steve looked trapped, but he relaxed quickly. It was strange how easy it actually was to relax around Clint. Considering the fact that the man knew almost as many ways to kill someone as Nat and seemed to enjoy employing them just as much, he should have been intimidating at best. Instead Steve found himself relatively at ease with the man. He hesitated before stepping in a little closer. "I'm guessing you haven't seen the latest memo from Fury?" Steve had finally gotten the hang of checking email on his phone after several coaching sessions with Tony, and Fury's memo about "appropriate public behavior" had been none-too-subtle especially when coupled with the entertainment headlines of the day that showed just how little good SHIELD's efforts to cover up the video had done. "Last night got a little crazy."

"Oh. That." Clint had skimmed the memo, assumed it was one of the junior SHIELD members, and left it at that. It was a little different knowing it was someone who struck him as the sort to never get scolded about so much as an overdue haircut, nevermind sucking face in public. He took a sip of his coffee, trying to wrap his head around the idea that Fury's favorite had done anything wrong enough to get a memo blasted out. "I kinda assumed it was a dumb kid. Since you're not a dumb kid, I'm guessing there's more to it than that, and that it's bugging you." Steely eyes watched Steve closely, but there wasn't any sort of judgment in them, just curiosity and a fair amount of concern to boot. Clint liked Steve, and as more than fap fodder. The guy was a good teammate. He'd taken good care of Nat during the whole Loki incident - which was apparently hanging over their heads once again - and had more than proven himself in combat.

Steve considered how much he wanted to say and finally decided he needed to talk to someone. Nat was absolutely out of the question, Coulson was already almost as upset with him as Fury, Bruce was an uncertain equation on the best of days, and Thor had been out of touch for long enough that Steve had mentally written him out of most equations. "Yeah, I guess it is." Steve took a sip of his own steaming mug of coffee before he decided the best way to proceed was to plunge right in. "Tony and I recruited someone the other night, a guy named Logan. I'm pretty sure that should have warranted a memo too, but the Director was a bit sidetracked. Anyway, we recruited him. He and I hit it off and we ended up going out to dinner. We bumped into Tony, told him we were going to a club. We sort of got hijacked," Steve confessed, "but the club was fun. A little too much fun, maybe."

The next part was more difficult to explain. Steve glanced up to check how Clint was taking things so far and ventured, "We eventually came back to the tower and... one thing sort of led to another... uh... I guess I kind of don't know what the day after's supposed to look like. Logan stayed on his own last night, and I stayed with Tony. I kind of know what it means for me. I don't really have a clue how either of them's taking it."

Having worked for SHIELD for a good decade plus, Clint rarely found himself surprised, but Steve's confessions left him fighting to keep his jaw from hitting the table. Not so much the "what" as the "who," of course. Then there was another struggle to keep from imagining a little too vividly what Steve and Tony would look like tangled around one another, not to mention a third participant in on the action. While Tony had never screamed "super manly," he also didn't seem the sort to be very careful about hiding any of his exploits. Clint's first thought was to ask how the sex was, but he remembered a moment later that Steve probably wouldn't appreciate an interrogation. "I w... uh... Well... That wasn’t what I was expecting. I can relate to that some, though," he admitted, his thoughts drifting to Nat. She had no reservations about tying him up and fucking him senseless, but she had a tendency to shy away if he tried to get close or get her to go on a date with him. He never really knew where he stood with her The one time he'd left her flowers, she'd never mentioned them. Clint knew Tony's reputation even if he didn’t know Logan’s. He could sure as hell relate to Steve's predicament. He furrowed his brow at the other man. "It's scarier to ask and possibly run them off than it is to just keep what you have, huh?"

Steve relaxed visibly at the easy summary of everything. "Exactly," he agreed with a sigh. It was a relief to hear that Clint got it almost immediately. "Talking to Logan is nice. He's got a lot of gaps in his memory, but he remembers more of where I came from than anybody else outside a nursing home, and Tony... I guess maybe part of the attraction is how different he is." He shook his head and stared into his coffee for a moment before looking back up at Clint with a hint of a smile. "I don't know where any of it's going, and it's kind of terrifying. Even if this was normal, I... I've never actually dated." 

Clint raised an eyebrow. "You? Really?" He was pretty surprised. Granted, he wasn't exactly aware of all the details of Steve's history besides the "wimp gets serum, kicks ass, gets frozen, thawed out 70 years later," overview the Director had given all of them. "Well, it looks like you're dating and then some now. Or something. I dunno. I'd say wait it out for awhile. I mean, it sounds like you can at least connect with the new guy." He paused. "But... really? You and Stark? I always kinda figured you'd be more interested in force-feeding him a fist sandwich..."

Steve shrugged. "Well, there's that too. It's... complicated, I guess. We push each other's buttons, push each other. That's not always bad. Anyway, like you said, all I can really do right now is wait it out and see what happens." //What happens if we're all doing that?// Steve pushed the thought away to ponder later. If he had to. "Maybe if it comes down to real dating, I can ask for some tips?" he ventured hopefully. "I know what used to be appropriate, but I'm guessing the rules have changed pretty dramatically." 

Clint couldn't help but grin a little. "Well, I don't know what all the rules used to be, but I'd guess the biggest change is something you've already encountered... namely, you don't have to go on a bunch of dates before you go for a roll in the hay." He shrugged. "Other than that, I'd say do whatever strikes you, at least as far as this company goes. Stark does, and it hasn't killed him yet. But, y'know, if you need any specifics, I'm happy to help. I'll leave it to you to ask, though. Somehow, I suspect you embarrass a little easier than I do." Granted, he'd love to give Steve a few more pointers on the matter, but he had little doubt that Steve was too old-fashioned to consider any "hands-on" training.

"Thank you," Steve answered earnestly. He felt better knowing there was someone amongst his companions that he could talk to about the whole thing without being judged. "I guess we sort of went on a date," he finally ventured. "There was dinner with Logan, then dancing with Tony, so... altogether it was sort of a date." He couldn't help but shake his head and chuckle. "I guess I'm a few decades past worrying about what my parents would think, so I'm probably in the clear."

"Unfortunately the court of public opinion remains in session," Coulson observed from the door with a rueful smile. "You're going to have to talk about this and soon." He held out an iPad with several of the more lurid headlines about the incident highlighted. 

Steve frowned at the collection as he paged through each one in turn. "Who I'm seeing is-"

"No one's business. I know," the man agreed as gently as possible. "That's solid logic except when it isn't, and it isn't. You're not just Steve. You're Captain America, and we both know that's not a no strings attached proposition. You'll have to talk about it. Tony too if he's willing."

"And Logan?"

Coulson's gaze narrowed for a moment but he apparently decided not to take the bait. "Isn't who you made out with on the dance floor. He isn't part of this issue."

"Solid logic, except when it isn't," Steve mumbled. Louder, he assented, "I'll talk to anyone who wants to listen."

Clint raised an eyebrow. "Made out on the dance floor?" he echoed before he had the decency to remember that it sounded a little judgmental. Steve had neglected to mention that part, and Clint sure as hell wouldn't have guessed. Coulson seemed to be dealing with the news fairly well, though. //Good to know he's open-minded, at least.// Then again, the idea of someone working at SHIELD simultaneously dealing with random aliens, mutants, and science experiments and being homophobic was kind of the real paradox, when he thought about it. When the other two men looked at him, Clint gave them a sheepish grin. "Sorry. Forgot to take my smart phone with me for my morning dump. Missed the headlines. And... I mean, Steve... Again, you've completely crushed all my assumptions about you."

"Speaking of asses, why is Jarvis pestering me about a press conference, and why is the press up in my business more than usual?" Tony grumbled as he dragged into the kitchen. He actually looked half-presentable for before eleven in the morning.

"You missed the whole 'the world wants to speak to you about'... er, well," Clint cleared his throat and suddenly felt like there was no way he could avoid shoving his foot in his mouth.

Tony looked as if he'd just noticed that the archer was in the room. "Don't you have a spanking to get to?" When Clint opened his mouth to protest, Tony held up a hand. "Before you say anything stupid, remember I managed to get into SHIELD's database, and you have a really interesting psych profile. Maybe we should-"

"You know, I have a plane to catch. You enjoy your mass media oil spill," Clint growled, looking fit to kill as he stalked out. He paused next to Coulson, "Let Fury know I'll head out as soon as I read the new guy's file and get my gear," before he vanished.

"You know, I'm pretty sure he's a couple of triggers from 'homicidal maniac'," Tony remarked without any apparent concern. He grudgingly moved his gaze to Coulson. "So... What'm I supposed to say? 'I kissed a boy, and I liked it'?"

Coulson gazed mildly at Tony until the silence became slightly uncomfortable. "It might be better if Captain Rogers handled this alone."

Resisting the urge to grit his teeth and roll his eyes, Steve agreed, "I can take care of it, Tony. I'm pretty sure it's my blood in the water getting them all excited anyway." 

"Not an inaccurate statement," Coulson agreed. He finally allowed, "If you think you can handle yourself with some small measure of comportment, the media probably would like to see you there."

Steve again found his skin crawling at how strange and uncomfortable it all was. The media would want Tony there to prove that it hadn't been some stupid, drunken mistake that was tearing the team apart the morning after. The media wanted him there to prove it was something more, and that was all the more awkward since Steve had no idea whether it was or not. "It's okay if you don't want to," he assured softy.

Tony shook his head. "Nah, I should be there. I started it. I can be good. Promise," he said to Coulson, holding up a hand. "Scout's honor. I'll even swear on my morning coffee if you'll let me get to the pot. We can even hold hands and gaze adoringly into each other's eyes so they know I didn't slip him a roofie-colada." Coffee in one hand, Tony slipped his free arm around Steve's waist and rested his head on the blonde's shoulder with a grin. Partially, he was doing it to agitate Coulson, but he had to fight from actually letting his grin get too dopey as he enjoyed the scent of Steve's aftershave. "This good?"

Steve couldn't help enjoying the closeness. He knew Tony was just trying to make Coulson uncomfortable, but his hand rose, and he found himself unconsciously stroking the hair at the nape of Tony's neck just the same. The whole thing might be a mess, but that didn't stop him from kind of liking it. "He's on our side, remember?"

Coulson smiled faintly at that. "So long as Mr. Stark behaves himself." He glanced down at the phone in his hand and tapped at the screen. "Be dressed and ready in an hour. I'll have a small selection of reporters here to speak with you both by then. In the meantime, I need to speak with our newest recruit." 

"I put him up in the room next to mine," Steve informed the man, realizing they hadn't really followed any sort of procedure in terms of signing Logan in or setting up lodgings.

"I know," the agent answered. He nodded to both men before disappearing down the hallway as quickly as he had come.

Steve's brow furrowed for a moment. "He's a good guy, but it's creepy how much he knows sometimes."

"I'd have to agree," Tony muttered. Coulson could be unnerving, anyway. The man had a strange confidence about him that belied his somewhat nerdy, almost bookish appearance. The billionaire still hadn't forgotten their first interaction and the rather persuasive threats the agent had used to convince him to stay put in his mansion and solve the puzzle SHIELD had given him. Glad to note Coulson was gone, Tony grinned a little and leaned up to nibble at Steve's stubbly throat. "Y'know, if I hadn't pinky promised to be good, I'd definitely give you a BJ right here, right now," he muttered. He sighed. "I hate talking to the press. Can I just hang on your arm and look pretty?"

Steve's breath had caught at the lurid suggestion, and he was half disappointed that Tony backed down. It was the right thing to do, but it was still disappointing. He sighed and couldn't help smiling at the suggestion. "That's probably a good idea, yeah. I don't think you can help the looking pretty part, but quieter might be better." Tony was great at dealing with the press if loud and unabashed was what the event called for. This cried out for something more delicate. Still stroking his fingers through Tony's hair, he added, "And maybe we can talk about that blow job thing after?"

"During? There's gonna be a podium, right?" Tony asked with a grin, then pouted when he got "the look" that only Steve could give. "Fine. After. It would've been epic, though."

Grudgingly, Tony led the way back to his suite, letting Steve go back to his own room long enough to change. In one of his typically expensive, flashy suits, Tony met back up with Steve in one of the tower's many conference rooms. "Y'know, they're gonna wonder why I'm not more mouthy. Maybe I could just throw 'em a few details. Or we could tell 'em about Logan," he pointed out. Really, the idea of being quiet in front of so many cameras was painful, but the idea of being anything other than what struck his fancy seemed outright inhumane.

Steve's jaw tensed, and he gave a shake of his head. "No. If you get the urge to overshare, remember that you're not being quiet for SHIELD. You're doing it for me," he added softly. "If I'd been caught back in the War, they would've either buried it, or I would've been finished. Now, here... I have a chance to remind people that who I'm attracted to has nothing to do with how I do my job. I can stand up for a lot of people who might not be able to stand up for themselves. That's why I did all this in the first place."

"I still say they'd love it," Tony groused, but acquiesced. In truth, he'd felt a little ashamed the minute Steve had dropped his voice and asked Tony to behave for more personal reasons. He felt the need to keep Steve comfortable with the relationship, and that was not a feeling Tony was accustomed to. Even with Pepper, he'd generally felt the need to push her buttons. With Steve, Tony couldn't help but feel a bit like a tool for having done so.

A knock at the door signalled the arrival of a small, escorted press mob. "Looks like we're on."

Steve felt his stomach twist but still managed to smile warmly and greet the men and women as they filed in. He shook each of their hands in turn and tried hard to remember which name belonged to which person. "Thank you all for coming out. I guess... questions?"

"How long have you been intentionally hiding your status as a gay man?"

Steve hadn't been expected something quite so blunt off the bat, and it took him a second to formulate a reply. "First of all, I'm not gay. I'm attracted to men and women. Secondly, I haven't been hiding anything. Not anymore. I'm sure we're all aware that when I was first in the media spotlight, being anything but straight was frowned on, so I kept things quiet back then. One of the most amazing things to me seeing how society has changed has been seeing how accepting people can be. I know they aren't all that way, and it's not all perfect, but it's a long way from what I knew. So, no, there hasn't been any hiding. To be honest, last night's the first time since I woke up that I've had the time to just sit back and have a little fun."

Steve had barely finished his sentence when another reporter popped up, "Mr. Stark, is this going to be like your relationship with Ms. Potts?"

Biting back a significantly more graphic remark, Tony managed a relatively civil, "Uh, no... different anatomy. Next question."

There was a brief ripple of chuckles, then, "Captain America, do you plan to use your status to further the gay agenda?"

"What about the kids? Do you think parents will want you to be a role model for their children now?"

"Are you going to continue to represent America as a homosexual?"

Accustomed to leading questions like these, Tony looked relatively calm, but he had no doubt that Steve was getting wound up tight. He very deliberately put an arm around the taller man's waist and squeezed gently. He felt sorry for Steve, and felt a bit of regret about the whole thing to begin with. Tony had known quite well that people would likely be snapping photos and getting video of them; the thought probably hadn't even crossed Steve's mind.

Steve had gone rigid at Tony's side, but the touch of the man's hand eased some of the strain. He forced himself to take a breath and relax as much as possible given the situation. "I intend to keep doing my job and keep protecting people however I can." Obviously pointing out that he was actually bisexual wasn't going to get him anywhere. "If people supported me before because I love my country and the people in it, then who I date shouldn't change anything. I'm the same person I was yesterday."

"Does SHIELD intend to leave you in command of the Avengers?"

Though inside he bristled at the question, Steve forced himself to nod, "Yes. My credentials haven't changed. My skills haven't changed."

The man shot back, "Many military heads have criticized Director Fury for putting someone so young in charge of such a unusual unit."

Steve managed a genuine smile at that, "There aren't a lot of people who would consider someone who fought in World War Two young, so I'll take that as a compliment." 

Obviously not willing to be put off what she considered the task at hand, a sharp-faced older woman countered, "How long have you and Tony Stark been together?"

"It's new," Steve allowed, glancing back at Tony and wishing they'd had time to talk about it all together before they had to face the firing squad. "We're still figuring things out. The most important thing at the end of the day is the team. What happens with us... we have to make sure it's good for the Avengers too."

"It'll be great for the Avengers. Especially me," Tony declared, giving Steve a quick glance.

"Mr. Stark, does Ms. Potts know about this relationship?"

"I'm sure she watches the news."

"Yes, but - "

"Did I leave Pepper for Captain America?" Tony interrupted. "No. And not for anyone else, either."

"And when did you realize you were gay?"

"Labels. I hate labels. I prefer to think of it as open-minded," Tony responded, glancing up at Steve and smiling.

"And what degree of commitment are you planning to - "

The question was drowned out by a roar of chatter and questions and camera flashes as Tony dragged Steve into another kiss. He was pretty sure that if Steve didn't strangle him for it, Fury would later, but he was already bored and annoyed by the press. All things considered, it was probably the most preferable course of action he could take with his mouth. Most other options involved telling the press to fuck off or something even more embarrassing for SHIELD.

Steve was shocked into stillness at first, but he recovered quickly and brought a hand up to cup the other man's cheek. When their lips parted, he was grinning like an idiot and didn't care in the least. Nothing mattered but how good it felt to enjoy the open, easy connection he felt with Tony. "I think we're done with questions," he added, glancing at the reporters before his gaze returned to Tony. "I also think we have some plans we discussed earlier. Now's as good a time as any. Upstairs," he added quietly before Tony could get any ideas.

Tony grinned, gave the press a sort of gloating wave, and dragged Steve out of the room via a side door that let out into another, smaller conference room. Careful to lock the door behind them, Tony then shoved Steve against the nearest wall and pressed another heated kiss to his lips. "Y'know, I figured I had about an eighty percent chance of getting my teeth slapped out of my head back there. Glad statistics failed me that time," Tony murmured even as his fingers started loosening Steve's belt. "You'll have to forgive me," he breathed, "if I don't have the patience to go all the way back to my room. And, y'know... walking through the halls with a boner? Kinda awkward." He leaned up and nipped at Steve's throat, sighing heavily as he pressed close to the blonde and cupped Steve's groin through his jeans.

"Right... yeah, it... would be," Steve agreed. He barely knew what he was saying. Only the thought that the reporters might not have left kept him from groaning as Tony's hand fell to exactly the right spot. His hips showed less restraint, and Steve thrust instinctively into the other man's grip. Sounding more certain, he agreed, "We shouldn't walk till we've worked this out." Steve watched with open appreciation as Tony worked his belt and fly open in no time flat. "You're really, really good at that. I'm not gonna think about why. Just gonna enjoy it."

"Good philosophy," Tony murmured, grinning faintly. His hand slid into Steve's pants, tracing the outline of the man's burgeoning erection before slipping into his underwear and giving the length a firm stroke. His own arousal spiked and was simultaneously forgotten in the face of thinking about how good Steve was going to look when Tony finally got around to sucking him off. "Now... I'm trying to remember... What was it we had plans to do right now?" He knew he was being a complete tease, but Steve made an easy and adorable target.

"Tonnyyyy," Steve whined, forcing himself to try and remember how to string more than a few words together while Tony's hand was wrapped around his cock. "Haven't I been tortured enough today?" He knew he was just this side of pouting, but if ever there was an appropriate time for it, this seemed like it. "Promise I'll return the favor." When that still wasn't enough to make Tony give in, Steve met his gaze evenly. "You were going to give me a blow job."

"Yes, sir," Tony grinned, sliding easily to his knees in front of the blonde. It was amusing to corner Steve into saying things Tony knew might make the man blush. Though he had to admit, getting Steve to look him in the eyes and say such things was incentive enough. He tugged Steve's jeans and underwear down and gave the other man's cock a good, long lick before slowly taking it into his mouth. Dark eyes drifted up to catch his partner's gaze, and Tony felt his own length throb anxiously. He had to fight to keep his hands off himself and remember that holding out for Steve to fulfill his promise would be worth it.

Tony knew how to take an order when it really mattered. Steve's head fell back against the wall, and he let himself enjoy the simple pleasure of the act. Tony had the softest lips he'd ever kissed, and they felt just as good below the belt as above. He gently carded his fingers through the man's curly hair, inadvertently ruining all of Tony's efforts to look presentable. Their press was done, and Steve didn't care anymore whether either of them looked presentable. 

Tony felt goosebumps rise on his skin, and he gripped Steve's hips as if trying to steady himself. It was amazing, having that level of power over the other man, being able to put that look of pleasure on his face. The billionaire would have smiled hearing Steve's head thump quietly against the wall if his mouth hadn't been otherwise occupied. He slowly began to bob his head, one hand gently cupping and stroking his partner's balls as he started to hum.

Steve gasped and wondered whether there were security cameras in the room only to realize it was stupid to question it. Of course there were. Somewhere some SHIELD security guard was getting a show. He shrugged it off as being entirely unimportant when Tony's mouth felt so good. "Your mouth is beautiful," he half-whispered into the otherwise quiet room. Steve's thighs began to tremble. He ignored that too and kept his back pressed tightly against the wall for stability. 

Tony moaned, the roughness in Steve's voice raising the hairs on the back of his neck. Moving more on instinct than on conscious thought, he forced Steve's impressive length further into his throat, swallowing around the throbbing flesh and shivering with pleasure. His head bobbed a little faster, more steadily. He was desperate to bring the other man off, wanted to taste his release. He'd never wanted to please anyone more in his entire life.

Wonderful as it would have been to spend the rest of the morning so pleasantly, Steve couldn't hold back. He didn't really want to. He wanted to lose himself in Tony, and there wasn't a single reason not to. Steve forgot his resolution not to make too much noise and gasped out Tony's name as he came hard down his throat. Only the wall kept him from collapsing to the floor. His knees shook, and he smiled brightly down at Tony. "Wow. You... wow." 

Tony drank the issue down gladly, then wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. He grinned up at Steve, "Couldn't've said it better myself." Standing, he pressed against the blonde, helping him stay on his feet and leaning up to press their lips together. "Feels fucking good to hear you call out for me like that. You're beautiful when you cum." He grinned and nipped at Steve's lip, then ground the aching bulge in his pants against his partner's thigh. "Of course, I think you made me a promise earlier."

Steve let out a shaky breath and then smiled. "Yeah, I think I did." It was easier to fall to his knees than to stay standing anyway, so Steve reversed their positions with as much grace as he could manage when he was drunk on pleasure. Even when he was face to face with the other man's bulge, Steve took his time. He nipped at the inside of Tony's thigh and mouthed at the hot press of the man's cock against the fabric. Finally Steve unfastened Tony's pants with agonizingly deliberate movements and followed by dragging his boxers down. He licked a long stripe over the head of Tony's cock and smiled. "Now what was it I promised?"

"C-contrary to popular belief, turnabout is actually really mean," Tony pointed out breathlessly, his fingers pressing against the wall as if doing so would somehow help him retain his grip on reality. Seeing Steve Rogers kneeling on the floor, looking up at him with darkened blue eyes, was almost enough to make him lose all his sanity. Knowing that Steve wouldn't relent until he'd had his revenge, Tony finally managed, "I think you were gonna suck me off... but if you changed your mind, I'll be needing a straight jacket."

Steve chuckled but didn't take long to enjoy the humor. He had work to do - very pleasant work. It amazed him to see Tony coming apart. It was one thing knowing he was attractive in an objective sense and another thing entirely to be capable of turning Tony into a whimpering mess. He languidly sucked the head only of Tony's cock into his mouth and felt the man's thighs spasm beneath his hands. That encouraged Steve to take more, though he let nothing hurry him. Finally when he could feel the tension in Tony building to the breaking point, Steve reached for the man's hands and placed them at the back of his head, silently giving him permission to take what he wanted.

Tony groaned as his hands threaded through soft blonde strands. It was a powerful sight, Steve's lips wrapped around his cock, willing and waiting for Tony to take what he wanted. The billionaire took a moment to relish the sight, to stroke Steve's hair genty before slowly tugging the man forward. He set a fairly languid pace, wanting to enjoy the moment as long as he could. "Fuck, you look good down there," he breathed, his toes curling in his shoes as he fought to keep control.

Steve took everything without a second's protest. He actually enjoyed giving head. It was intimate and deliberate in a way just sex didn't always manage to be. Besides that he always enjoyed the opportunity to watch a lover come undone, and that had never been more true than it was looking up at Tony. It wasn't the right moment for talking or thinking, but Steve couldn't suppress the thought that he wanted to see a lot more of this. 

Already revved up from having gotten Steve off, Tony didn't have much stamina left in him, and watching the perfect man before him suck his dick was too much for his self-restraint. He came with a few tense moans, one of which sounded like his partner's name. With a pleasantly shaky lack of grace, he tugged Steve back a bit and then slumped to the floor with a big, sloppy grin plastered across his face. His hair was mussed, and he was flushed from the encounter, and all he wanted to do was drag Steve into a long, breathless kiss, an impulse which he immediately obliged. He hands tangled in the other man's hair, Tony couldn't imagine anything better than the taste of sweat and himself on Steve’s lips.

Steve licked his way into Tony's mouth and savored the rich taste of him, the bitterness of the cum and the traces of his coffee from breakfast. Steve was barely breathing by the time their lips parted again, and he didn't care. "Not sure I want to get up from the floor again," he confessed, pulling Tony half into his lap instead. "In fact, I know I don't want to. This feels too good."

A sharp knock sounded at the door and was followed by Coulson opening it a crack. He averted his eyes but still informed them, "Logan's going on assignment. The head of his old team went AWOL. Figured you'd both want to know. Be sure you zip up before you come out." 

The door closed and Steve groaned. "We need to remember to lock the door next time, not just close it. Would've given us a few seconds more of a head start."

Tony groaned and groused for a moment before pushing himself up off the floor. "I did lock it. Coulson has access to everything, damn him. Remind me why I had security cameras put all over the place here?" he grouched, zipping up and raking a hand through his hair. "Then again, I'm sure SHIELD would've corrected the oversight if I hadn't..." He tousled Steve's hair and offered him a hand up. "Didn't take them long to point the shred-o-matic at someone they didn't like, hm?" Tony got distracted staring at Steve’s kiss-bruised mouth before either of them got to give more thought to Logan’s assignment. He pressed a quick kiss to Steve's mouth. The man was magnetic, tempting with his disheveled look. "Mm... I could bend you over that table and-"

Another sharp knock and a sharper reminder to get out of the room interrupted Tony. He sighed. "...give you a pat on the back," he finished, his voice raised for their unwanted audience. "Remind me to buy Coulson a month-long vacation to Antarctica."

"Remind me not to combine thinking and blow jobs. It's a bad way to go," Steve answered with a sigh as he righted his clothes and did his best to make his hair presentable. When the door opened, he nodded solemnly to the men filing in for a meeting. They all looked vaguely shell-shocked at the implication of what had been going on in the room and Steve tried to pretend he had no idea that they were staring. His cheeks were flaming red by the time they were free of the distraction. "Right now I think I'm done with thinking for the day. What about you?" Steve asked in a tone that seemed oddly coy considering he'd been on his knees sucking Tony off a few minutes before. "You have any plans?"

Tony pointedly looked over his shoulder before giving Steve's ass a solid squeeze and moving closer. "My schedule's pretty open. Nobody trying to blow up the planet. I could probably just read a newspaper, play with one of my cars... nothing special. I mean, unless you had some ideas? Maybe a movie?" he suggested, acting decidedly naive but unable to affect the sort of innocence Steve was pulling off. It was kind of maddeningly sexy, the way the blonde could look so demure and yet be so damned hot between the sheets. "Might take a nap."

"I can help with that," Steve offered, immediately playful as he slid his hand into Tony's. He felt foolish and juvenile doing it, but the feeling was washed away when he realized how good it was being so easily close to the man. "I like the idea of a real date. I'm sure SHIELD would approve. Image rehab." Steve rolled his eyes to make clear his feeling on that aspect of it, but the idea of going out proudly with Tony on his arm definitely appealed to him. "If the world's going to know we're together, I'd like to know that means more to me than just drunk dancing."

"A date? Hmm... with cocktails and roses? That could be cute. Don't forget the makeup for all those photos that're gonna get snapped." When Steve glanced down at him, he gave the man's hand a squeeze. "I like it. Somewhere fancy with real tablecloths, or more in the steakhouse or greasy spoon arena?" He paused. "Also, I feel it's important to note that I was the only one drunk. I had a designated dancer. Technically only half of that dance was drunk."

Steve smiled at Tony's rambling, warming at the sound and finally chiming in, "I'm thinking Italian. Comfort food, but classy... and you may have a point about the dancing. All I can say is that you're a terrible influence." Before Tony could get offended, he used his grip on Tony's hand to pull the man in a little closer and kiss his neck softly. "Luckily for you, I enjoy that." Steve glanced up at the clock and calculated briefly. "Okay, I'm going to go shower, get something decent on, and try to answer the three hundred emails I probably have from Director Fury by now. Meet back here at lunch?"

Tony murmured contentedly at the kiss to his neck, offering Steve a crooked smile. "Deal. I'm going to go shower, ignore three hundred of Fury's emails, take a nap, then meet you here," Tony agreed. "Maybe or maybe not in that order. I'll also probably throw on some clothes in there somewhere." He gave Steve a sharp slap on the ass, then took a few steps backward down the hallway before turning and walking toward his room.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

He was admittedly a little late. Okay, a lot late. Like, twenty minutes. //He's gonna be grumpy,// Tony reflected as he struggled to arrange his tie and hustle to their meeting spot all at the same time.

Steve had been scowling alternately at the wall clock and his watch for the better part of ten minutes when Tony finally rounded the corner. He found himself torn between wanting to strangle the man, or grab him and throw him up against the wall. Maybe both. Steve sighed instead and tilted his head, silently asking for an explanation that he knew wouldn't make him feel much better about the lateness. Tony Stark was never on time. He tried not to let his mind start listing all the other things he knew about Tony that were nothing he wanted to think about when they were just starting to date.

"Slept through my alarm," Tony explained quickly. He leaned up for a kiss, then paused and gave Steve a sheepish look. "Sorry. Okay, to be honest, I got caught up analyzing the molecular decay of a couple of samples of that chitauri ore we recovered and there were some isotopes-" He cut himself off when Steve gave him that 'speak English' look he knew so well. Instead, he went with his previously intended action and stole a quick kiss from the other man. "Sorry."

Steve sighed and let his arms slide around Tony's waist. His annoyance eased almost at once, and he rested his forehead against Tony's. "Okay. You mine now? No ore for a few hours?" he teased in return. Steve couldn't resist another brief kiss before he drew back. "C'mon, let's go. Your punishment is me picking the movie."

"Oh, god," Tony groaned, but lead the way down to the garage anyway.

One sappy borderline chick-flick later, Tony was giving Steve a sort of judgmental, sideways look as they made their way back out to the parking lot. "I'd say I want that ninety minutes of my life back, but at least there were some hot people in that movie, and I got to cuddle you." He glanced in the rearview mirror as they drove away, then frowned. "Same pair of headlights. Goody. We've got at least one set of camera-fucks following us," he noted.

A short drive downtown had them in front of a nice Italian place. Tony left his keys with the valet and lead them inside. It was one of his favorites as far as real restaurants went, and low profile enough that people wouldn't expect him there. He breathed a sigh of relief as they settled at their table. "Well... I haven't had a flash in the face yet. We're doing pretty well, looks like."

"Unless they're just really interested in your car tonight." They could take as many shots of the getaway as they wanted, but Steve preferred to have his meals in private. It was one thing to have a kid come up and ask for an autograph every now and then and another to be stalked by the paparazzi. Looking around, Steve took in the charming atmosphere and smiled. Tony had picked a place less lavish than his normal, and he appreciated it. "Maybe I'll just get to enjoy playing some good old-fashioned footsie with you, then." 

 

"Just footsie?" Tony pouted, then nudged Steve's leg with his foot. "Much prefer a game of handsie, instead. How much shit do you think Fury'd give us if we fooled around in the bathroom?" His gaze shifted to the approaching waiter. "Martini. Soda for blondie." The man seemed to hesitate as he realized who his customers were. "And no, we're not doing pictures tonight. Just tell your friends about our normal, healthy relationship, hm?"

Steve rolled his eyes, but he appreciated the sentiment just the same. He'd gone out with the man to enjoy his company, not to create a media stir. The fewer cell phone pictures were snapped the better. "It's been quiet, but we both know it won't stay that way." The glare of celebrity was one thing, the glare of celebrity when combined with trying to make a shaky relationship work was terrifying. Steve reached out for Tony's free hand as the waiter set their drinks down. He tried to tune out the man's mute judgment and focus on Tony instead once they’d given their orders. "And the only way we're fooling around in the bathroom is if there's a really, really good lock on the door."

It was Tony's turn to roll his eyes, but more for the sake of looking put out. "So picky." He put on his most devilish grin and leaned in, looking Steve right in the eyes. "It's a shame you're so shy. I'd take you to a nice, loud bar with a nice, dark corner and show you just how wicked my tongue can be..." He trailed off and leaned back, letting his foot brush against the blonde's calf as he took his napkin from the table and innocently spread it over his lap.

Steve gave the man a dirty look, but he didn't ask Tony to stop. Steve didn't really want him to, and from the smug look on Tony's face, he knew that well enough. His expression softened into a smile as he gave Tony's a squeeze. "A dark corner might not be privacy enough for my taste, but that doesn't mean you can't still get lucky tonight if you play your cards right." He glanced up and caught a flash of movement from a nearby table - a man discreetly trying to tuck his cell phone out of sight. Steve barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I guess it was too good to be true to think we might not get noticed."

"I've got a tall, blue-eyed, blonde drink of water with me and you think there's any hope of not getting noticed?" Tony offered his partner a wink and squeezed Steve’s hand in return. "At least they've got technology now. No more getting a giant camera rammed up your nose. Usually, anyway. There was this time I was in Russia and-" The waiter arriving with their food and two glasses of wine interrupted him.

"You dinner, gentlemen. And the wine is on us," he said.

"Oh, nice." He glanced at the man who'd snapped a pic of them with his cell phone. "Is that Rick from People?" The waiter gave Tony an almost apologetic look until Tony waved a dismissive hand. "Just get him a glass of his own wine 'on the house,' and ask him if his wife's still porking the editor from Vanity Faire."

"Uh... Yes... sir..."

"Use the word 'porking'. Very important. There's a good tip in it for you, too."

The waiter scuttled off to deliver the news, and "Rick" was soon hustling out of the restaurant as he screamed into his phone while Tony casually ate his dinner and looked entirely too satisfied with himself.

Steve covered his face with his hands and groaned. "Tony..." He couldn't bring himself to really scold the man when it was ultimately the reporter's fault for invading their privacy. He sighed and fixed his date with a level stare. "So is she really?" Steve broke into a smile and looked up at the sound of yelling. "I guess that's a yes. People in glass houses need to learn to stop throwing so many stones." It was frustrating that they were the subject of so much scrutiny simply by virtue of being attracted to each other and wanting to explore it. He felt sure that there had to be more important things going on in the world. "You're an awful influence. Really. I should care that his marriage is falling apart on the phone in a middle of a restaurant... and instead I'm kind of thinking he deserves it." 

 

"I take absolutely no pleasure from people's suffering," Tony said with an expression that made it perfectly unclear as to whether he was serious. "But the waiter's definitely going to get a good tip. Twenty-five percent, maybe more. So you shouldn't call me a bad influence; I'm generous," he declared, taking a sip of wine and a bite of food. "But he probably does deserve it." He gave Steve his trademark grin, the one that had gotten him out of trouble on many, many occasions and into trouble almost as often. "Dessert?"

Steve couldn't help smiling back. "A little. Then more when we get home," he suggested. On the one hand, their burgeoning relationship was a lot more than sex to him. On the other hand, it was difficult not to indulge when there was so obvious a spark between them. "Unless you'd like me to be a little more traditional about all this. We started things off at the deep end of the pool, so there's nothing wrong with putting the brakes on for awhile and wading in a little more slowly."

Tony blinked, furrowing his brow. "I'm sorry? That last bit kind of sounded like English, but I didn't understand a word of it." He shrugged, thoughtfully chewing his food for a moment. "Maybe I should read up on my forties vernacular. But I'd definitely put off that research for extra dessert at home," he decided, looking dead serious. Catching the waiter's eye, he gestured the man over. "Something rich and decadent for dessert." He flicked a glance at Steve as he added, "Maybe... drizzled with chocolate."

Steve swallowed and wondered exactly why he'd suggested slowing things down. It was hard to think about slow when Tony's dark eyes were promising a whole lot of things that involved going very, very fast. He barely noticed the waiter looking uneasy and hurrying away to get their bill. It was hard to keep himself in place in his seat and not drag Tony across the table to kiss him instead. They'd done more than enough damage by being inappropriate in public, though, and even if Tony didn't care, Steve did. He settled for rubbing his thumb across Tony's wrist. "I think dessert at home sounds absolutely perfect."

Tony grinned. "Wonderful." He made sure that the waiter got them paid out and tipped a ridiculous amount and an autograph - "Thanks for not being a pain.-Tony Stark" - and lead Steve casually to the valet stand outside. Once in the car, Tony took a few casual turns that were definitely not aimed at getting them home before pulling into a mostly-empty parking garage. He threw the car into park and placed his hand on the back of Steve's seat, giving him a smoldering look and a faint grin. "Y'know, I'm not sure I'm ready to go back to the Tower and risk Coulson interrupting my fun," he said, trailing off and leaning towards Steve invitingly.

"I'm not sure he wants to see your fun," Steve countered, though he had to admit that Tony had a point. He wasn't eager to get back into the Tower either, and he had absolutely no defenses against the other man's proximity. He looked around and felt his heart pounding in his chest. Dancing in public was one thing, but someone could come out to one of the few cars scattered throughout the garage at any moment. //That's the point,// Steve told himself as he caught the smirk on Tony's face. "After the other night, I guess it's a little late to pretend I'm not that kind of guy." Normally he was anything but that kind of guy, but Steve doubted many people could refuse Tony. Instead of trying, Steve closed the distance between them and brushed his lips gently against Tony's.

"Well, you could. I mean, coy is always cute on you," Tony replied, quirking a skeptical brow. "If you wanna roleplay, I won't stop you." He didn't give Steve a chance to defend himself, diving in for a heated kiss and placing his hand on the supersoldier's perfect abs to brace himself. Tony was no slouch in the fitness department - you couldn't fly around in a suit undergoing multiple Gs for hours without doing a few sit-ups in the interim - but he was still amazed at just how perfect Steve's body was. His fingers worked between the buttons of Steve's shirt, getting at what skin they could since he didn't feel coordinated enough to try and actually undo them.

Steve began working just as resolutely to get Tony out of his clothing. "Backseat?" If they didn't move, someone was going to end up with a gear shift someplace they didn't want it. It was surprisingly complicated for the both of them to scramble back over the seats, but it was worth it when Steve was able to drag Tony in close and kiss him easily while they tore at each other's clothing. He felt a few buttons give here and there, but neither of them cared. Clothing was overrated. Tony looked better naked anyway. Steve resolutely did his best to divest Tony of clothing and mostly succeeded in opening his shirt, pushing off his jacket, and unzipping his pants in the fever of trying to get more and closer and now. He finally slowed and ran a hand down over Tony's chest through the trail of dark hair there, smiling. "Nice start."

Tony grinned, squirming a little to shift and unzip Steve's pants sufficiently to let him slide his hand in. "Good enough," he agreed, leaning down for a long, slow kiss. "Hope you're as flexible as you are ripped, or this's gonna be awkward as hell." After all, neither of the men were exactly short. Tony had managed to get in a good fuck or two in much more cramped spaces. Deciding they'd worry about it one step at a time, Tony lightly trailed his fingers over Steve's cock before leaning down to give one of the man's nipples a few light licks and beginning to suckle at it.

Steve knew that once upon a time, he would've had no problem at all fitting into the backseat regardless of sharing it with someone else. It was worth it to be a little less comfortable to see the light of desire in Tony's eyes, and Steve groaned as he jerked Tony's hips in closer. It was good to know that they didn't need something special. The tryst with Logan had been good, but underneath it all, Steve couldn't help but be terrified that Tony was going to do what Tony always did. No matter how good things were, he found a way to tear them apart most of the time. He ran from everything: friends, relationships. If he'd had any family left, Steve suspected he would've run from that too. He knew the risks. Intellectually, Steve knew that Tony was more likely to find someone else or leave outright than to stick around, but he couldn't help hoping. He couldn't help wanting. Putting common sense firmly aside, Steve let his eyes fall closed and just enjoyed.

 

Tony looked up and grinned, then dove in for a heated kiss as his hand deftly unfastened Steve's slacks. He lightly teased the man's swelling cock through his underwear before his fingers snaked in to wrap around the pulsing flesh. The billionaire groaned and ground his hips against Steve at the sensation of the thick cock pulsing in his fingers. It was almost frightening how much simply touching Steve or being near the other man turned him on. Tony wasn't used to feeling as if he'd completely lose his mind just by being close to someone, just by thinking about them. It was more than just hormones, much as he liked to tell himself otherwise. //Stop thinking... stop it...// Focusing more thoroughly on sensation, Tony drew away from Steve's lips only to start working his lightly stubbled throat, moaning soft words of encouragement and arousal.

Steve closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment to passively relish the heat of Tony's mouth before shifting, grabbing Tony and using his strength to pin the other man flat against the seat. It was awkward, two grown men attempting to lie down in the back seat of even Tony's luxury vehicle, but the extra friction was worth it. Steve nipped at the man's earlobe and then licked at the spot gently. "How do you want to do things tonight?" They hadn't been alone for their first time together, and Steve hated to assume too much. He'd never felt the need to lock himself in to one position or preference, and Tony seemed similarly flexible - which meant both that they could do anything at all and that there was an almost overwhelming array of possibilities on the table.

Tony was literally speechless for a few seconds. "I... uh... Sorry. I just got very suddenly manhandled, and I'm going to need a second before oxygen starts moving to my brain again," he panted, swallowing hard and wondering if it was his heart or the arc reactor that felt ready to hop out of his chest. He squirmed anxiously underneath Steve's powerful frame, but when that didn't do anything to get some kind of gratification out of his partner, Tony used every ounce of what little willpower he had to try and formulate a real response. "Well, you could start by touching me, and then maybe fuck me until I forget English? I think I'd like that," he breathed, nipping at Steve's throat and then reaching down to run his hand over Steve's shaft once again. "Y'know, actually... wouldn't mind sucking on this some, too."

"You're already losing your grasp on English, so you're not giving me much of a challenge," Steve responded with a smirk. He liked knowing that it was so damn easy to make a guy with as much experience as Tony Stark stammer. "Can't say I mind the idea, though." It required a whole lot more shifting, but Steve managed to find a way to sit down without permanently crushing any parts of his companion. With a little more work, he found the lever to shift the front seat forward and give them even more room. "C'mon over here and let's see how you do with that." The fingers that threaded their way through Tony's hair left little suspense as to what he wanted.

 

Tony felt goosebumps erupt on his skin at the grip on his hair. Steve was being gentle but forceful, and it was the kind of interaction Tony had been craving for a long while. His pulse hammering in his ears, Tony tugged Steve's underwear out of the way and ran his tongue over the head of the man's swelling cock. The smaller man moaned softly at the taste of his partner on his tongue, his hands moving to rest on Steve's thighs and his fingertips curling against solid muscle.

Steve watched intently as Tony's tongue slid over his cock. The man was living pornography - and not just because he could curse with the best of them. No matter what he did or where he was, Tony Stark knew how to put on a show. Steve swallowed hard as Tony stared back just as intently. There were moments where Steve was willing to admit that losing all fear of being seen naked was probably the best thing the serum had ever done for him. Saving the world was great. Inhibition-free sex was at the very least a close second. "Just like that," he whispered absently, "but I'm thinking you can probably take a little more."

Tony stopped for a moment to offer Steve his typical cocky smirk. "What's the right answer? 'Challenge accepted'?" Grinning even more broadly at Steve's put-out expression, Tony dove back into his work. He licked at the head of the man's cock a few more times before slowly letting the shaft slide into his mouth. He sucked and teased, his tongue manipulating the swollen flesh skillfully. After a moment, he paused, his eyes raising to meet Steve's bright blue gaze. Then, with a muffled moan, he slid forward, letting the blonde's thick shaft slowly glide into his throat. He didn't pause until his lips were stretched around the base of Steve's cock, then drew back slowly only to repeat the process again and again.

Tony's mouth was a thing of beauty. The guy could, of course, talk his way out of or into anything under the sun. It was electrifying to learn that Tony was just as talented with his lips when they were doing something productive. "Christ, Tony, that's..." He shuddered and held Tony by the hair, unable to let go of him. Steve resisted the urge to force the action. It would've been cruel when Tony was doing so perfectly without any intervention. "Just keep... just do that. Whatever you're doing, do that..." The man shifted and took Steve even deeper. The blond let out a hearty gasp. "That!"

Tony moaned, his hips rocking forward against the car seat instinctively. Listening to Steve sound so unrestrained, so desperate and needy was almost enough to make Tony want to cum right then and there. Instead, Tony did as he was bidden, letting that thick shaft ram the back of his throat as he began bobbing his head faster and faster, his fingers digging into Steve's hips as he moved. He moaned and hummed in pleasure around the thick flesh in his throat, taking it deeper and faster as if he couldn't get enough of it.

Steve gritted his teeth. Tony could have made a saint turn to sinning with his mouth. Finally Steve knew he could take no more. "Stop.... Tony, stop." If the man didn't quit, they'd be done all too soon. He could have happily fucked Tony's throat until he exploded, but there were other things that Steve wanted too. Voice husky, Steve explained, "I don't want to finish this up just yet. I haven't even been inside you, and I seem to remember you mentioning that on your wishlist."

Tony would've been reluctant to withdraw if not for that last promise. Pulling away, he licked his lips and looked up at Steve. "Well, if you put it that way, I suppose I could slow down for a bit," he allowed, leaning up to kiss Steve's full lips. He couldn't resist the opportunity to run his hands over the other man's body, exploring the perfectly sculpted muscles. Tony had had plenty of hot partners in his "career," but Steve was special in every sense of the word. "Anyone ever told you that you're perfect in ways that should be illegal?" he asked with a grin.

"Not as often as you'd think. Some days this," he pointed to himself, "still feels like a loaner." Steve grinned and easily lifted Tony up to straddle his lap. "Now how about you tell me where the lube is - and don't even try to tell me Tony Stark doesn't have lube stashed in his car - and I'll see about getting you just as ready as you've got me." As he spoke Steve began almost absently nibbling at Tony's neck. The man smelled heavenly. Steve was sure there was some sort of expensive cologne involved, but even beneath any chemical enhancement, Tony just plain smelled good. He tasted good. The heat of his body felt good. More than with anybody he'd been with in a long time, being with Tony felt strangely easy - the very last word he would have ever associated with a relationship of any kind involving Stark. //Calm before the storm,// a less optimistic voice sounded in his mind.

Tony whimpered faintly before he managed to stop himself as Steve worked his neck. It was a sensitive spot for him. "I'd... Uhm... I seem to be getting distracted." Managing to leverage some of the ridiculous brain power he had at his disposal, Tony finally remembered where the item in question was and pulled open a small compartment hidden in the sundeck above the back seats. He shoved a small bottle of lube into Steve's hand as he shifted against the other man's cock. "Pretty well put-together for a loaner," Tony finally managed. It wasn't just that, though. Steve's serum-enhanced body was just the outside aligning to match the man Steve was: a hero. Tony wondered briefly if he was good enough to be with Steve in the first place. It was nothing to do with looks; Tony knew he was attractive to pretty much everyone on the planet that liked men. He just couldn't shake the feeling that he was a borderline villain just waiting for a relapse.

 

"Thanks. Try to keep up with the upkeep... maintenance... regular washing," Steve muttered as he flipped the cap on the bottle and coated his fingers. It wasn't that he wanted to rush, it was just that they were in the back of a car, and it would eventually get uncomfortable. The feeling of Tony's ass pressing against him and the way it tightened and then gave way to his fingers... well, that he wasn't going to be uncomfortable with any time soon. Steve swallowed hard. The muscles clenching down around him felt like heaven. "I have no idea what I was just saying. None."

Tony smirked, feeling a bit more in control as Steve rambled a little incoherently. He grabbed the blonde by the chin and pulled him into a brief, intense kiss before offering him a broad smirk. "I think you were saying you were going to lube me up and fuck me silly," he reminded the blonde, glancing at the man's lubed fingers. "Not that I don't appreciate you holding onto my ass like I'm your own personal call girl, but I'd love to take this to the next step," he quipped.

"Right. Yeah, on it," Steve answered with a flicker of a smile. Strong, sure fingers were soon scissoring Tony open, testing the waters for what was to come. He knew Tony could take every last inch, but he wanted it to feel as amazing for Tony as it would for him. With every twitch of Tony's ass around his fingers, Steve grew harder and subsequently more desperate. "You wanna be on top?" There was something to be said for not trying to cram themselves into an even more awkward position in the car, but Steve didn't really care how they proceeded as long as they did. The need to take instead of tease had grown overwhelming.

Tony moaned and buried his face in Steve's muscular shoulder as the man worked him. His cocky facade was nearly gone in response to the delicious pressure, and Tony wriggled against Steve's body in anticipation. When the blonde finally rasped the question in his ear, it took Tony a minute to respond. "Mmm... I... think I might wind up hitting my head if I stay on top... and that's not what I had in mind when I said 'fuck my brains out'," Tony decided, shifting to lay back on the seat. He spread his knees apart and grinned at Steve, taking himself in hand and stroking slowly as he waited for his partner to move. "Don't keep me waiting. I'm a busy guy, ya know."

"Let it never be said I stood in the way of your plans." Steve took his place, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he grabbed Tony by the hips. The close quarters meant they'd have to be careful even with Tony spread out - he was right about a concussion not being a pleasant end to the evening. Inch by inch, he sank into the man's body. Steve watched as Tony went from confident to barely holding on. He loved it. Steve knew it was a look he could get used to. It worried him to realize that maybe on some level he already had. Tony Stark was too addictive for it to be good for either of them.

The billionaire tried to keep some composure, but that just resulted in a would-be moan coming out as more of a pitiful, needy whimper when Steve filled him up perfectly. As Steve settled over him, he wrapped his arms around the blonde and marveled yet again at the man's strength and build. He knew Steve could break him in half without a thought, knew that it took Steve conscious effort to avoid hurting him. The feel of that restrained power against him was incredible, exhilarating, and reassuring. Tony leaned up and pressed his lips to Steve's throat, nuzzling the sweat-slick skin a moment later. He took a breath to speak, then stopped himself. //Little early for that kind of confession. And we've been dating, what? Two, three days? Yeah...// A shift on Steve's part served to send any further thoughts of romance crashing to the wayside as Tony lifted his hips and managed a breathy, "Ohfuckyes," in his partner's ear.

Steve panted in return, thrusting hard into Tony's willing body. "God, you feel amazing," he murmured before nipping at Tony's earlobe. The way the man moved was intoxicating. Steve actually wondered how he'd kept his hands off of Tony for so long. Probably because he kept talking. Even Tony's snarky, often angry attitude had grown on him with time. Steve honestly had trouble remembering what he'd done for fun without Tony Stark. Steve couldn't help but smile fondly at the utterly debauched picture beneath him when he drew back enough to get a good view. "You look even better."

Tony moaned, then remembered that that didn't count as words. "Thanks.... got a haircut this morning," he said, managing a faint smirk before another shift on Steve's part completely obliterated the look of amusement. Tony arched into the larger man, his lips parted, eyes rolled back and partially closed as internal muscles gripped at the hot shaft inside him. He moaned, long and low, as his hand grasped Steve's muscular ass, pulling him in with each thrust as if he couldn't get enough.

Steve didn't bother with a verbal reply. It was too much fun watching Tony fall apart. He stared at the gorgeous man beneath him and angled his thrusts to try and get the most out of every one. It wouldn't take either one of them long, he could see that from the way Tony twisted beneath him. That didn't mean it had to be anything less than spectacular. Steve wondered if he could talk Tony into staying with him after they got inside, if they could curl up together and just sleep. "Open your eyes," he pleaded gently. "Let me see you."

It took Tony an extra second to process the request. With a low moan, he opened his eyes and focused them on Steve's beautifully flushed face. "...feel so good," he managed, moaning with each of Steve's thrusts, his hips moving in time with the other man. He was soon moaning with each of the blonde's motions, his hands tightening on Steve's shoulders as if trying to keep himself anchored to reality. "Yes... like that... don't stop," he managed, the sentence punctuated with a strangled gasp of pleasure. A moment later he came hard, biting his bottom lip to keep from screaming loud enough to bring any late-night security guards running.

Steve let Tony ride the release through before he let go himself. Frankly he'd barely managed to wait that long. It felt like heaven to finally cum with Tony still clenching around him. He gasped his lover's name but otherwise managed to follow Tony's example of keeping quiet. Steve sat up and dragged Tony with him to avoid collapsing on top of the man and crushing him. "I'm not letting go of you tonight." Even through the climax the idea of sleeping with Tony close had held fast. "In fact, if things that feel as good as tonight keep happening, I might not let go at all."

Tony wasn't accustomed to having someone significantly larger and stronger holding him close. It felt oddly safe, and the near-constant buzz of internal energy within Tony ebbed a little at the sensationg of security he felt when Steve pulled him in. He sighed, relaxing against the blonde as Steve spoke. The words brought his gaze up to Steve's face, and Tony grinned a little. "I think I might be alright with that," he said, knowing that he was, at the least, committing to some exclusivity. He knew he wanted at least that much with Steve. He also knew it was way too early to plan on more. They were close. They gave a shit about each other more than simple teammates probably should have. // But you have a terrible way of ruining really good things,// a harsh voice in the back of Tony's mind reminded him as thoughts of Pepper flickered through his mind. Shoving the worries aside, Tony leaned resolutely against his lover, listening to Steve's heartbeat gradually slow in the aftermath.

Steve smiled as Tony's body went boneless against his. The soldier pressed a gentle kiss on Tony's sweat-damp hair and stroked his back. It felt too good to ruin with talking. Even Tony seemed to sense it. They sat in warm, sweet silence with nothing but the sound of their breath and the wind outside to disturb the moment. Steve wondered if he could talk SHIELD - likely with a little extra help from Coulson to put pressure on - into letting them take a little vacation. Getting Tony off in a tropical location with nothing but beaches and margaritas to worry about would be heaven. "Eventually," he admitted as it became harder and harder not to drift off in the backseat of the car, "we're gonna have to move. And dress. And drive."

Tony said something into Steve's neck that was probably an objection to the idea, but otherwise stayed put. His ringtone for Fury - the Imperial March - resulted in another sound of protest before he finally reached down to rummage around and find his cell. He flipped it open on video - hoping to at least irritate Fury in return for interrupting his "moment" - and frowned into the camera. "Don't you do normal human things? Like sleep?"

"Stark, do you know where - " Fury noticed Steve in the frame and stopped dead. "Found you both, then. I think you two should get back to the tower."

"Daaaad... do we have to?"

"I'm not gonna answer that." The transmission cut out. 

Tony pouted and grudgingly pushed away from Steve. "Guess that's curfew, then."

Steve sighed. He hadn't wanted the night to end so early, especially not to have it end with Fury paging them. That rarely meant anything good. "Guess it is. Just don't think you're off the hook for a sleepover tonight... assuming we get to sleep," he added with a groan. Reluctantly they both found their clothes and dressed for the drive back. Showing up disheveled with Tony on his arm was one thing, but showing up naked wasn't on Steve's to do list. For one thing Clint would never, ever let either of them live it down. "I can't wait to see what corner of the sky is falling today. Then again, we should be grateful. I don't think anybody's tried to kill me in at least a week."


	8. We Could be Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the team confronts Loki and it goes about as well as you would expect (ie very, very badly).

When the rest of the team arrived in the briefing room, a semi-disheveled Steve and Tony were sitting at the table already, and by chance Logan found himself seated shoulder to shoulder with Stark. The feral mutant's nose told him quite clearly what the two had been doing with their night when they'd been called in. //I guess everyone around here gets a good fuck when they get the chance.// It made sense in a way. //Eat dessert first, and all that. Except me. 'Cause I'm a loner. And a rebel.// He made sure Scott got the seat next to him before it dawned on Logan that he was being stared at. His gaze shifted to Tony, who was wearing a shit-eating grin. "...Stark."

Tony pointedly leaned forward over the table to get a good look at Scott, then sat back up to look at Logan, his expression making it clear he had all kinds of things to say about his assumptions.

Logan wasn't having it. He leaned in close to Stark and looked him hard in the eye, their noses millimeters from contact. "You say one fucking word to him about what happened, and I'll personally present Loki with yer liver as a souvenir," he growled, no amount of jest in his voice.

Tony raised his eyebrows and his hands and shook his head with that same smug grin. "Lips're sealed," he smirked.

Clint absently registered the exchange as he settled into his seat between Coulson and Nat, his mind halfway on his anxiety regarding their opponent, the other half focusing on Fury as the man settled into his seat at the head of the table and gestured to Phil. "Agent Coulson. If you'd get us started..."

Scott was prevented from asking what the hell was going on by the agent in question starting, "It's surprisingly easy to explain what Loki is doing. He's creating chaos." Coulson passed a series of files out across the table. He nodded toward the one closest to Tony. "He released all the animals in a testing facility. An eco-terrorist group that doesn't technically exist is currently taking the blame, but the real problem," he watched as Stark flipped the folder open, "clearly shows otherwise." There have been major traffic accidents, minor weather events, one building collapse, and stranger still, no reported fatalities so far. “We don't know what he wants. If the events were more concentrated, we could say he's keeping the authorities busy - not that the authorities are likely to be a problem for someone of his abilities."

Nat frowned, gaze narrowed. "He's showing off. He got away from Thor, he damn near beat us last time, and he's showing off. Drawing attention. Our attention."

Tony poked at one of the files, brow furrowed as he paged through its contents. "Yeah, speaking of Thor, where is he? Shouldn't he already be here to put the little shit in time-out?"

Fury gave Tony 'The Look'. "He's being put to use where he's most needed."

"Put to use? You make it sound like you're telling a god what to do." Bruce, unobtrusive as ever, padded into the room with another file in hand. Fury's response was another dubious stare, and Banner rolled his eyes and sighed, putting his file down on the podium. "Agent Coulson, I think you skipped my file. I get it. It was a little complicated." Trying not to look put-out, Bruce addressed the assembled Avengers. "We're seeing spikes in radiation similar to when the Tesseract was floating around out there. Thor's confirmed that it's still under lock and key, so - "

"So, you're thinking it's a spoof. Which means he's trying to draw us out. Or at least draw his brother out," Tony said, putting down his own file. He'd already skimmed through Bruce's before his date despite his assertions to Steve that he intended to ignore anything that looked like work. He glanced at Fury. "That's it, then? You just shoved Thor in a bunker with a Rubix cube and told him to stay put, didn't you?" The comment was met with an imperceptible eyebrow twitch, and Tony nodded. "Thought so."

Fury bridged his fingertips together and slouched back casually in his chair, counter to everyone else's tense postures. "Loki's not one to go it alone. He knows he can't stand toe-to-toe with his brother, or with us. He knows a regular army wouldn't work," he glanced at Bruce, "and he knows that he can't easily drive a wedge between the bunch of you, so he's got to have a different strategy."

"But we don't know what," Clint put in. He had his war face on, but internally he was near panic. He still had nightmares of losing it and killing other agents, other Avengers.

Nick Fury shook his head. "Not yet. But he's just going to keep throwing a temper tantrum until we give him attention, so that's what we're going to do. He wants a spanking? We'll give him one."

"That's weird, Nick. Never wanted to hear you say 'spanking'." Tony took a bit of satisfaction from the twinge of annoyance on Fury's face.

Fury pushed himself out of his chair. "Go get suited up. Time for a day at the zoo. Be ready for a shitstorm, but don't start anything. Coulson, give them the coordinates."

"Ships are fueled and pilots are standing by. Stark, Jarvis has it uploaded to the suit. We're prepared to take two teams.” Coulson glanced at Darien, “Have the techs show you the way around comms duty,” before turning his gaze to Steve, “Captain?"

That was all the cue it took for Steve to take the helm. "Agent Coulson, you're with Widow, Hawkeye, and Logan." If anyone in the world could hope to keep Logan in check, it would be Phil Coulson. Barring that, Natasha wasn't likely to let anyone step out of line unless the situation called for it. "Mr. Summers, would you be willing to take point here with Fawkes, keep us up to date on the big picture?"

It was a brush off assignment, but Scott didn't hesitate before agreeing. He knew he wasn't ready for a more active role yet, and apparently so did everyone else. Much as that stung, Scott had spent too long in Steve's place to argue for anything else. His pride wasn't worth someone getting hurt. "Absolutely, Captain."

Steve nodded firmly. "That means Iron Man, Banner, you're with me." He trusted both men, and more than that, he trusted Tony to help if anything went wrong with the Hulk. For whatever reason, even as a "big green rage monster," as Tony liked to call him, Iron Man seemed to be a soft spot for Hulk. That was just fine by Steve. "Remember, we're going to keep him from hurting anyone - not to get ourselves hurt." His gaze lingered for a moment on Clint and Phil across the room. "No one's got permission to come back injured. This fight's going to take more than one round knowing Loki, and I need all of you. Any questions?"

"Is it weird that I get goosebumps when you do that?" Tony asked, giving Steve a look that made it completely unclear as to whether he was serious.

Steve arched an eyebrow but couldn't bring himself to dress Tony down. Their relationship had changed, but Tony hadn't, and frankly he would've felt weird if the man suddenly started treating him like someone above the usual ribbing. 

Clint's jaw tensed, but he said nothing, nodding once and flicking a glance to Phil and Nat before placing his collapsed bow on his back and moving for the door.

Logan rolled his eyes but then focused more closely on Scott. He didn't know how much PDA the other man was willing to put up with, but he wasn't going to just walk off. He grabbed the man's sleeve and tugged him closer, looking into bright blue eyes. "I'll be back," he reassured. Deciding he didn't give a damn about Tony giving him shit, he tangled his hand in the man's hair and gave him a quick, harsh kiss. "Just make sure you've got dinner ready, alright?" he deadpanned before following Clint, Nat, and Coulson out the door. He wasn't big on long goodbyes, and he wasn't big on having it in his head that he wouldn't come back from a mission.

Scott smiled and then glanced over to Fury, who was on his own way out of the room. He had no idea how Fury might react since he had no idea what Fury thought about much of anything. He'd more or less hired himself onto the team.

Fury met his gaze evenly. "I don't care. I don't wanna know. Cap trusts you, I'm willing to give you a chance. You help my team get back in one piece and then we talk."

Bruce quietly followed Steve and Tony toward the hangar, not missing the changed energy between the two men. Deciding to save any quips about it for a less tense moment, he opted for a different topic, "So, that Logan guy... went through his files. Seems a little crazy."

"Anger management issues. Maybe you could tell him some secrets," Tony snarked as he fiddled with his sleeves. The MK XII wristbands were in place. The suit was still a little eccentric, but Tony wasn't in the habit of waiting until something was perfected before he used it. //Hopefully, Loki just wants to talk about his mommy issues, anyway.//

Banner allowed the faintest glimmer of green to flicker in his eyes before he offered an oddly restrained smirk. "Well, I find that spending time around you raises my tolerance for trolling; maybe we could start with that," he remarked as they climbed into their plane.

"He's good in a fight, he's strong, and with Summers waiting at the Hub, he's got a reason to go back in one piece. That's a start," Steve allowed before addressing Bruce's main complaint, "and we won't know about the rest until we see him work. The X-Men trusted him with their lives, and from what I read, they weren't disappointed." The way Tony kept fiddling with his new wristbands wasn't lost on Steve, who frowned slightly. He knew it would be like asking water not to be wet to ask Tony to be sure about the things he did before he did them. "It does work, doesn't it?"

"Mostly. Usually. About eighty percent of the time," Tony replied, tugging his sleeves back into place. "Bio-adaptive nanomachines. You'll like it."

Bruce looked at Tony askance as they boarded the plane. "Did... did you inject yourself with nanomachines?"

"'Inject' is such a strong word..."

"Tony, that's a little much, don't'cha think?"

"It's fine. I mean, there's a guy in Iowa that has, like, a cellphone implanted in his arm or something," Tony pointed out as the plane lifted off.

The conversation had gone over Steve's head almost as soon as it started. He didn't like the look Bruce was giving Tony, though. Whereas Tony often talked over his head on purpose just to keep him from being entirely in the loop, Bruce tried to keep most of what he said accessible to everyone listening - at least as much as he could with part of the audience being as technically uncertain as Steve. "English?"

"Translation is that apparently Tony thinks he and the suit just weren't close enough," Bruce answered, still giving Tony his most judgmental stare. 

It was one of the moments when Steve hated being in charge because he wanted to pull Tony aside and talk to him on a far more personal level than would have been appropriate. "If you're not sure you're going to be okay, I need to know now. Things were too close as it was the last time around. I can't have anyone playing at half speed and using this as a test run."

"Bruce is just being dramatic," Tony scoffed. "I'll be fine. I've got a backup loaded in the plane if this happens to not work. But it will. The nanomachines orient on the bracelets, attach to the arc reactor, and organize themselves into a suit. No worries." When Bruce continued to give him the "disappointed dad" look, Tony rolled his eyes. "C'mon, man, it's not like everyone who experimentally injects things into themselves has weird things happen to them."

Bruce ignored the personal jab. "Yeah. A metal suit sprouting out of your skin. Not weird at all."

 

Steve forced himself to relax. Tony was always snarky, but there was a difference between worried Tony and confident Tony. He really did seem sure. "Just speak up if anything does happen to go wrong." He saw Bruce open his mouth again, but the man subsided. Steve suspected that was more for his benefit than Tony's, but he still appreciated the restraint. "We don't have any idea what things are going to look like when we find Loki." The god might want nothing more than to taunt them, to try and verbally prove his superiority. He might also be looking for a fight. "We need to be ready for anything and keep an eye out for each other." Quietly, he added, "Especially Hawkeye and Agent Coulson. I trust them both, but this isn't something anybody should have to go through more than once."

Tony nodded, looking as solemn as he ever got. "You got it," he said, giving Steve a clap on the shoulder. It was still weird, feeling affectionate toward Steve. Especially in a mission situation. He looked to the pilot as the plane bobbed and she announced they were on approach. The cargo door droned open, and Tony gave Bruce's parachute a final tug. "Not gonna join the chute-less club?"

"I'd rather not let the other guy out to play if I don't have to."

"Fair enough," Tony allowed, then lightly tapped the bracelets to one another. Liquid metal seemed to come from his very pores, starting at the bracelets and moving towards the arc reactor. It looked more or less like the last version he'd worn, if slightly more organic. Tony made a face like someone experiencing the sound of nails on a chalkboard as the suit closed up around his neck, forming the back of the helmet but leaving his face exposed. "That... that's a feeling that'll take some adjusting to." He gestured to the clouds below them. "After you, good sir."

Bruce took a resolute breath before heaving himself out of the plane.

"Gotta give him credit. For a nerdy freak accident, he's got a lot of guts." Tony leaned in to press a quick kiss to Steve's lips. As he drew back, the suit closed over his face, replacing Tony Stark with the visage of Iron Man. "Let's have some fun, huh?" Without waiting for a reply, Tony did a swan dive from the back of the plane. "Jarvis, thrusters?"

"In good working order, sir, but I would have recommended testing them in the lab, first."

"That's what missions are for. Put the LZ in my HUD and we'll put a pin in your idea of what I need to test," he told the AI, though he had to admit that he hadn't been entirely sure that nano-based thrusters would work. Tony did a few fancy moves before he leveled off and started angling toward the landing zone.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

As the plane took off, Logan noted Hawkeye staring at him and tilted his head. "What?"

"So... what is it that you... do... exactly?" It had definitely occurred to Clint that the Cap had taken the heavy hitters and left them with a wildcard. He knew that Steve wasn't the sort to do something stupid, so there obviously had to be more to this guy than just being an asshole. Clint had to admit he hadn't read Logan's file; looking through hours of footage and pages of text just weren't what the archer had signed up for. //Yeah, that's a habit I've gotta change, I guess.//

Logan looked more annoyed than usual. "I have four phrases and a kung fu grip." He tried to focus on how much Clint was irritating him instead of the fact that they were in an airplane.

"And a phobia for flying," Clint noted. The man had spent too much of his career surviving on his ability to read people to not notice Logan's nervousness, subtle though the tells were.

"How's your 'sharp points through the eye' phobia?" Logan shot back, leaning against the plane's safety harness as if it were the only thing keeping him from making good on his threat.

"Almost as good as the taser I carry," Phil broke in without missing a beat. He smiled mildly at Logan as the man glared at him. "Don't be offended. Clint doesn't read files. He hates being handed things almost as much as Stark, but at least Stark looks it up later on the internal network."

"Clint's a man of many skills. Reading isn't one of them." Nat tossed a smirk Clint's way before her gaze returned to Logan. "I almost hope we have a reason to see those claws of yours. What I've read... impressive." It might have sounded flirtatious but the glint in her eyes was anything but sexual. Natasha had a deep appreciation for anyone who could kill people as efficiently as Logan. "Just make sure you watch out for the rest of the team. Steve only looks cuddly until you piss him off."

Clint had to remind himself not to be a little jealous. He knew Nat's comments were about anything but sex, but it didn't help him feel a little bit like the new guy was one-upping him without even trying. He appreciated Phil offering to tase Logan, though he couldn't help but wish the agent actually had reason to do so.

Logan raised an eyebrow. The idea of a taser was almost as laughable as a punch in the jaw, but Logan had to admit he wasn't really interested in that level of pain at the moment. The glint in Nat's eyes was a little unnerving. "I have a feelin' you'll get your wish, from what I've heard about this Loki guy. Thing is, I'm not sure how much good they'll be."

"Probably about as good as arrows. But Loki has a habit of bringing thuglettes with him, and those usually die pretty easy."

"Loki is, unfortunately, more or less a god,” Coulson agreed. “We're looking to contain, not kill, satisfying as it would be to return the favor."

Nat was more than aware that she'd been put in a position of playing baby-sitter in their particular group. Loki had wounded her by hurting the people around her. Clint and Coulson had suffered far more directly. They frankly still weren't sure how the latter was up and walking around. "The difference is that this time we know. We also know that we can beat him because we have. Even when he had an alien army behind him." The redhead gave a casual shrug. "This should be cake."

Though Phil certainly appreciated the bravado, he knew better. The reason Loki was dangerous wasn't his near-immortality or his strength, it was the fact that he knew how to manipulate people at least as well as Natasha, which was a pointedly terrifying idea. "If it helps, I promise not to go toe to toe with any gods unattended this time."

"If you try, you won't be the one getting to use that shiny new taser," Natasha agreed softly.

Logan could hear Clint's accelerated heartrate as they discussed Loki further. The man looked completely calm, but Logan could smell the tang of fear in the archer's sweat. His gaze drifted to Coulson, then to Widow, and he tilted his head. "Y'know, I'm not a fan o' not knowin' everything I'm gettin' into. Been burned that way a few times. What're you three not tellin' me?" His eyes moved to meet Clint's for a moment before fixing pointedly on Coulson. "What's got him scared outta his mind?"

Clint felt sure his stomach knot and wondered if part of this guy's schtick was reading minds. He tried to come up with a decent reply, but found himself stumped for once.

Coulson stared back and answered in his most neutral tone, "Agent Barton was compromised the last time Loki came to town. Stay away from his staff. He can use it to twist you into knots, and from what I understand, the concussion it takes to break the hold isn't particularly pleasant." 

Just thinking about it made Natasha edgy, though she hid the reaction well. The only tell was a sideways glance at Clint as if to reassure herself that he was there and safe and himself. 

"I got a little too confident with our new tech and was clinically dead for awhile. I don't recommend that either. It did get me the only paid vacation I've had with SHIELD. Tahiti. It's a," the man's smooth voice faltered for a moment, "magical place."

Nat's gaze narrowed, but she said nothing. Phil hadn't told anyone a lot about his recovery, and Fury had said even less. "In other words, Fury wasn't bluffing when he said Loki's dangerous."

 

It was Logan's turn to feel a little nervous, and not just because they were dropping altitude. He remembered how easy it had been for Xavier to toy with his mind, and Chuck hadn't had any bad intentions. "I'm startin' to get an idea," he said, gripping his seat white-knuckled as the plane careened wildly to one side and the pilot notified them it was time to get off.

Logan tugged his chest strap a little tighter. Too tight, really, but it wasn't like he was going to get a blister. "Don't see why we couldn't just land the friggin' thing," he grumbled under his breath. He knew, of course, that he could probably have hit the ground without a chute from a lot higher altitude and at worst come out with a headache. That didn't mean he felt any better about flinging himself out of a perfectly good airplane or having gotten on one in the first place. His thoughts were interrupted by a hard shove from behind that left him flopping head over heels for a few seconds before he finally regained his bearings and got hold of his chute release. In the process, he swore to himself he'd be killing Barton if Loki didn't do it first.

Clint smirked at Nat before double-checking his parachute straps one more time. Readying his bow to deploy in his hands, the archer casually stepped off the ramp.

Nat followed in a similarly casual style with Phil close behind. Apart from Logan, none of them were strangers to such jumps. Nat considered jumping the easy part. It was what happened after they landed that worried her. Loki wanted them weak, he wanted them distracted, and she wasn't sure how he intended to get them that way. She had herself together a beat after landing. She saw nothing closeby, which was good. It meant they hadn't come in too close, at least. "If our scans are accurate, he's-"

Scott's voice broke in over the comm, "He's about a quarter of a mile due west of you based on what security cameras in the area are saying."

"It's less accurate than you'd hope," Nat returned with a sigh. If their last encounter with Loki was any indication, the man had no problem at all being in two places at once.

"I'd like to at least make sure I'm mouthing off to the right one. Keep an eye out, Mr. Summers," Coulson agreed. "For now, we assume we're going the right way."

Logan sniffed at the air. Nothing but the city and the loosed zoo animals. //What's a god smell like, anyway?// he wondered to himself, taking Scott's direction. He froze after a few steps. There was an eerie sort of keening hum coming from the west, pitched so high even he could barely hear it. "There's somethin' that way," he said, pointing toward the tiger habitats.

Hawkeye gave his bow a shake, deploying it and scanning in the direction Logan had pointed tensely. "So, what? You're part bloodhound?"

"Barton, you got any adamantium in you?"

"Not that I'm aware of." The archer started stalking westward.

Claws slowly eased from Logan's forearms, more in preparation for a fight than anything, but the timing was right, "Want some?"

Clint's blue eyes strayed to the deadly blades, and even he had to allow himself raised eyebrows. "I'm good." He fixed his gaze on the distance again. "Thanks."

In a beat, Phil held a gun that seemingly came from nowhere, and Natasha had taken up a position close to Clint. They worked together with intuitive perfection, and she trusted their ability to take on whatever came their way. "What are you picking up?" Phil pressed Logan as he drew a bit closer to the mutant. His enhanced abilities were giving him a sneak preview of the problem they were about to have. The sooner the rest of them had a full forecast, the better. The fact that Loki hadn't shown himself could either be a good sign - he wasn't ready for a full confrontation, which could mean he also wasn't at full strength for whatever reason - or a bad one. The god was just screwing with them.

Logan shook his head. "Nothin' I recognize... Some high-pitched hum... Kinda irritating." It was giving him a headache as they drew closer. "Don't smell anything, though."

A flicker of movement darted through some of the perfectly trimmed hedges nearby, and Clint had drawn and fired an arrow before Logan had time to stop him. The feral mutant watched along with Clint as some endangered-looking antelope flailed and shrieked as it bled out.

Logan raised an eyebrow at the archer. "Time to up yer medication."

Clint, obviously feeling the adrenaline, managed a grim smirk nonetheless. "That deer had it in for us."

"I think that was an antelope."

"What're you, David Attenborough now?"

A significantly taller, horned silhouette caught Logan's attention, and he set his jaw. "That sure as hell ain't a deer," he growled, darting towards the figure.

"Logan! Wait!" Clint felt his heart sink as the man charged forward. He was struck with fear and indecision: chase Logan and make sure the man wasn't alone, or risk the possibility it was a ploy to separate them from one another?

Loki raised a hand and threw a barrier up, letting Logan throw himself against it and watching the man with detached curiosity. "Careful. You might hurt yourself." His gaze swept imperiously over to the others assembled. "I could swear I killed you already."

Inside, Coulson railed against the barrier that meant he couldn't get a shot off. It might not kill Loki, but if it hurt him a lot, it would still have been worth it. "I'm surprisingly hard to kill."

"I would have said shockingly easy, though apparently the results are ultimately mixed in terms of their success. Since I've already failed with you, there's not much point in spending more time on the problem. Now, who else would like to go on a little trip, hmm?" Loki smiled for all the world as if he wasn't the least bit worried about what any of them might do. "Wolverine, is it? You'd do rather nicely... so much rage."

"What, no hellos for me?" Natasha watched the god, hoping to see a shimmer or a flicker or any other telltale sign that there were chinks in his virtual armor. "I'm hurt."

"You will be when I'm through with you." He watched the woman's gaze narrow. "Your control is fantastic. Such a striking contrast... yes. A matched set." Loki lifted a golden orb. It hovered neatly over his hand and then flashed. 

When Phil's eyes adjusted, he felt his heart sink. Natasha and Logan were missing along with the god they'd come to find. "Base, we have a problem. Loki's gone. Wolverine and Widow are presumably with him. Any eyes on the prize?"

Scott's voice was decidedly more shaken when it came back, "No. Nothing. We've lost visual contact."

"Nat?" Clint had managed to keep it together, but as the spots from his vision cleared and it became obvious the woman wasn't there, he felt cold panic threatening to take over. "Coulson, where is she? Summers, she has to be around her somewhere! Find her!" he growled. His mind was already coming up with all the horrible things the woman would experience at Loki's hands. The god wouldn't just kill her. He'd... "No... no... nonono..." His eyes darted about helplessly as he searched for some sign, some clue as to where Loki had taken their teammates.

"Barton!" Phil reached out, grabbing Clint's shoulder and spinning him before he could unravel any further. He made sure the other man was looking straight at him. "We're going to get them back. Right now, there's still work to do. Summers, keep tech on the video feeds. We need to know if there's another end on that rainbow. The flash was blinding on this end."

"I've got eyes on it. If we see something like it, we'll know where they are." Scott sounded equally tense, but he obviously wasn't willing to let that keep him from doing what he could. "We're scanning for any matches - facial or otherwise."

"Good. Barton and I will rendezvous with the Captain, Iron Man, and Banner. Keep us informed." Phil finally let his hand fall from Clint's shoulder. "We need to do what we can to help the rest of our team. If Loki wanted us here, he's probably got someone keeping them busy. His version of busy tends to be dangerous. Summers, let them know we'll intercept in five."

"Will do."

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Steve sighed and jumped out behind them. No matter how the mission went, it was going to be a mess. Loki didn't do neat and tidy and, so far, neither did they. The Avengers were effective, but they were a long way from a cohesive, smooth unit. //Neat and tidy's overrated,// Steve decided as he deployed his shoot. A water jump was one thing, but the fewer bumps and bruises he landed with the more he could tolerate getting if the fight got rough. He hoped with the course they'd mapped out, the other team would land on the other side and, with the help of the surrounding terrain, make it less likely for Loki to get past them. 

As he neared the ground, Steve noted Tony still circling in the sky, apparently testing out the new system. When they got back he'd have a few things to say about the man using missions as test runs, but mostly he was just glad things really were working. Steve spared a silent prayer that they'd all be going home in one piece before touching down with relative ease and giving Bruce, already untangling himself from his own chute, a wave. "Now if we can get Iron Man to land," he muttered into his comm, a not-so-subtle hint for Tony to stop playing and join them.

Obviously annoyed with his less-than-perfect landing, Bruce grunted as he finally disengaged from the chute. "You'd think SHIELD would've come up with some no-tangle ones or something," he groused.

"Fury said I wasn't allowed to design any. Something about not wanting rocket packs attached," Tony's voice came over his comm. He buzzed over the pair one more time - scanning the area for Loki - before settling next to Steve. He blasted off a split second later, though, as an elephant charged them, narrowly missing the pair. Settling back on the ground and watching the pachyderm disappear into the city, Tony winced inside his helmet. "Well, that's gonna ruin someone's day. I think Loki's been watching too much Jumanji." He knew Loki would likely show his face sooner than later but was surprised that the god wasn't already making an appearance. //You'd think me flying around all over the place would get his attention. Shiny, and all.// "You think he forgot us?"

Steve sighed, wondering if they would all get hazard pay for chasing elephants around the city. Not likely. "Alright, we'll split up and- duck!" he finished as a bullet hit the ground by Bruce's feet. He turned to see a blue-skinned woman slinking out of the shadows. 

"Oops, missed." The woman smiled in a way that would have been sweet if she hadn't looked suspiciously like Nat after she snapped the neck of someone who really deserved it. "I'm afraid Loki's busy at the moment, but he sent a few friends to say hello. So hello."

Drawing himself up straight, Steve took a step closer. "Hello. I don't suppose your boss has any messages about what he wants?"

"No, boy scout, I'm afraid not, given that you don't even know my boss." She glanced to the woods from which she'd appeared. "Why don't you come out in introduce yourselves." Turning her attention back to the group, the woman added, "I'm Mystique."

 

"Probably luckier for you that you missed," Bruce muttered, feeling a drop of sweat trickle down the back of his neck. He wasn't exactly interested in letting the Hulk off the leash. At all. But he was fairly sure another bullet in his general direction would do the trick.

"Well, whoever your boss is, you'd think he'd get you some clothes. I mean, where're your gonna put that gun when you're done with - " Tony was cut off by Jarvis's proximity detector squealing at him just before something massive slammed into him and knocked him to the ground. The loud growl that accompanied the attack had him convinced it was a lion until four thin metal claws cut through his face mask like butter, stopping millimeters from his eyes. Tony managed to get one hand under himself and fire off the thruster, sending dirt flying one way and himself and his attacker another.

Victor Creed grunted as five hundred pounds of man and power armor landed on him; he withdrew his claws from Tony's faceplate and clasped onto the man's sides with both hands, grinning with manic glee as he sank adamantium into the suit's sides, eliciting a scream of pain from Tony.

The wounds weren't terrible. He'd had worse. But Tony hadn't experienced anything capable of going through the suit like it was barely even there. Fortunately, the nanomachines had closed up the holes in his helmet the minute the claws were gone. Unfortunately, it did nothing for the holes in him.// I'll have to look into fixing that... if I get the chance.// Thrusters fired wildly as Tony tried to get some sort of advantage, but the claws buried inch-deep in his sides made moving seem like a terrible idea. "Lil' help, Cap?" he rasped as the claws started to saw slowly through him and the armor. He managed to elbow his attacker in the head, but it sounded more like his elbow had collided with a car than a person. //What the hell is this guy made of? What is he, period?//

Almost before the words left Tony's lips, Steve's shield slammed into his attacker's back. He grabbed it just in time to send it flying toward Mystique, but the woman ducked out of the way and rolled back to her feet with inhuman grace. She paused to blow him a kiss. "It's adorable that you think that's all it's going to take." Hips swinging, she moved in closer, ignoring Steve and Tony while their attention was focused on Victor. "I was really hoping to get to talk to you," she purred to Bruce. "Loki's told me so much. None of it good, which just makes it more interesting."

"Hey, ugly! Care to dance?" Steve snapped at the man still trying to open Iron Man like a can of soup. The shield flew again, but Steve followed close on its heels, grabbing the metal disc and then plowing it and his own not inconsiderable bodyweight into the attacker.

 

Bruce, looking more like a scared college professor than one of Earth's mightiest heroes, eyed Mystique nervously, one arm wrapped around his abdomen as if holding something in. Which he was. He could feel more sweat rolling down his face, and he swallowed hard. "Then I'm sure he told you that this is my good side," he said with a nervous, humorless smile. "And that you don't want to meet the other side. He mentioned that part, right? How he and I had a little talk? Well, him and the other guy."

The second blow from Steve was enough to dislodge Victor Creed from his perch on top of Tony, and the man immediately turned his attention on the Captain, swinging a handful of adamantium at the soldier. He got a bit of a shock, though, when the claws struck Steve's battle-scarred shield. His surprise didn't slow him down more than a split second. In fact, the surprise served to fuel his rage, and Victor latched his hand over the edge of Steve's shield and used the leverage to vault over the barrier and take a swipe at the blonde Avenger.

Tony pushed himself up off the ground, trying to draw a deep breath. "Jarvis... are my organs all still where they're supposed to be?"

A diagram popped up, illustrating Tony's injuries to him. "You've narrowly missed losing what's left of your liver, sir, and you've got a torn muscle wall, but that seems to be the worst of it."

"Thanks," Tony panted, shoving himself up off the ground.

"Sir, I don't recommend continuing - "

"Jarvis, why did I program you to make recommendations? You know I won't listen."

"I do try to keep you around, sir."

"Yep," Tony replied, staggering a little in the armor as he tried to track his opponent. The blue skinned woman had more or less completely slipped his mind as he tried to figure out the best way to extract Steve from the beast that was trying to kill him.

Steve felt his suit and the flesh beneath it tear as he ducked back. Thankfully it was a superficial wound, and he knew it would be gone inside a day. Less comforting was the thought of the kind of damage the enraged man could do. Steve caught movement from the corner of his eye and was comforted to realize that Tony was at least okay enough to get up and move. "You need to work on your anger management," Steve gritted out, trying to keep the shield between his body and Creed.

 

Sparks flew as Creed's razor claws crashed against Steve's shield with bone-crushing force. He could smell blood, knew he'd wounded the man. He roared with the sheer thrill of battle, of finding a worthy opponent. He parried one of Steve's blows, absorbed another, feinted, and managed to knock the soldier's shield aside. His arm swung in a wide arc, claws brought to bear for the man's exposed gut, when a blast from one of Iron Man's hand thrusters knocked him away.

"Hey, Shred-head," Tony sneered, aiming his glowing palm at Creed. The black-clad man paused for a second, and Tony got a good look at the claws that had nearly ended up in his spleen. He did his best to look like he didn't feel like the aforementioned organ was about to fall out, but his posture was slightly hunched forward and pained, nonetheless. "Look like you could stand to be declawed, kitten." A flash in the distance and scuffle of comms chatter that followed as Coulson reported what had happened distracted Tony long enough for Creed to launch himself at Tony. Iron Man got his wits about him quickly enough to catch Creed's shirt and leg throw the man over his head.

Mystique snorted at the boys trying to keep Victor at bay. "He's like a rabid house cat when he's like this. They're not going to have an easy time of it." She tilted her head, yellow eyes taking Bruce's measure and reading his obvious struggle. "You can help them if you like. I really didn't mean to wake the beast, but I'm curious to see what you can do. What do you say, Mr. Banner? Shall we let the Hulk attend the party?"

"I d-don't think either of us want that," the physicist managed, his voice shaky and breathless as if he'd been running. The whole situation was pissing him off. He wanted to keep it together, but he couldn't help Steve and Tony as he was. Then he noted the flash of light and heard Clint's panicked voice over the comm right before Victor's flying form barreled into him with the force of a runaway train.

Tony pushed himself up painfully - the sudden movements hadn't done anything for his injuries - just to see where his reflexive throw had landed. "Uhh... oops."

It was more than enough. Deadly force. Pain. Broken bones. The Hulk didn't need any more excuses. Banner curled up with a roar of anger and pain, and then what had been Bruce Banner a moment ago stood, looming over Creed, clearly blaming the relatively tiny mutant for his discomfort.

Victor leaped out of the way as a massive fist smashed into the concrete right where he'd been a moment before. Digging his claws into tough green flesh, he scaled the Hulk's back like his feline namesake. "Raven! You summoned this thing! You get rid of it!" he roared, dodging his much slower opponent's attempts to catch him, but just barely.

Mystique rolled her eyes. "Honestly, you big baby, you've got an adamantium skeleton and claws that put grizzly bears to shame. Stop being a pussy." Knowing that despite his whining, Creed could handle the Hulk, she turned her attention to the more vulnerable opponents. With the boys distracted, Mystique took the chance to get a jump on Steve. She lithely leapt up and wrapped her legs around Steve's neck.

The weight of Mystique's body and the motion of her throwing herself toward the ground brought Steve down with her. He found his feet quickly but couldn't quite get vertical with the woman still choking him out. Most opponents were easy enough to unseat, but Mystique's slender form made prying her away something like trying to disentangle oneself from a spiderweb.

"Fuck you, Mystique," Victor growled. The Hulk managed to catch him by the ankle and smack him against the pavement a few times before he clawed his way loose. He knew he'd survive all this and then some. That didn't mean he was enjoying it.

Tony was momentarily overwhelmed with the two struggles he was so firmly planted between. Figuring Bruce could cope with his current problem, Tony focused on the blue chick tangled around Steve. "Okay, you're gonna have to get out of my kool-aid, hon," he admonished, trying to aim in a way that'd only strike the python-esque mutant woman. Realizing that wasn't going to work, he dropped his hand. //I'm gonna hate myself for this, sooner or later. The two were too low to the ground for Tony to aid Steve with a flyby, and that left one option.// The armored superhero threw himself into the tangle, trying - unsuccessfully - to catch Mystique by the throat, the hair... anything. Armored up, he didn't have the agility to fight the woman. "Jarvis, ditch the suit."

"Sir, I don't think - "

"I didn't program you to think!"

"Actually..." The AI countered, but obliged Tony's order all the same, leaving him in his black jumpsuit, which was torn and shone with drying blood.

The billionaire grabbed desperately at Mystique's knees, trying to pry them apart. "Any chance... I could... buy you a drink... to move this along?" Tony quipped, attempting to at least get Steve enough room to grab some air.

Suddenly Mystique arched, gasped, and went slack on top of Steve.

He rolled out from under her and was about to ask what the hell Tony had done when he saw Phil holstering a strange weapon. "She's not dead. Just out. Should stay that way for awhile. Barton, you think you can help Hulk take down the walking shag rug?"

"Done," Clint growled, his face hardened. He didn't know who these people were, but he knew that Loki had brought them. That was all he needed to know. In the space of a heartbeat, an arrow lodged in Sabretooth's eye socket, knocking him clear of the Hulk, who promptly pinned him under one massive green foot.

Steve gratefully retrieved his shield but halted at the sight of Tony. "Stay back," he ordered sharply. They couldn't afford to run, but he wasn't about to let Tony get in the mix while injured. The sight of the blood was enough to make Steve want to leave it to the rest of them and get his boyfriend to safety. As a leader, he didn't have that luxury. Instead he stalked toward where the Hulk was growling at Sabretooth. "Now might be a good time to get your friend and bid a hasty retreat." Much as he wanted to keep Mystique as a hostage, Steve wasn't willing to risk the safety of anyone else if Loki decided he needed more hostages of his own.

Clearly pissed, Sabretooth yanked the arrow from his eye - dragging a respectable amount of soft tissue with it - and managed to squirm out from under the Hulk's foot. The green monstrosity swiped at him, but he nimbly avoided the attack. Glowering at Steve with his good eye, he scooped up Mystique's limp form. He smirked, baring sharp fangs. "Just gettin' started, boyscout. Wait 'til you see what Loki's got planned..."

Tony watched the man charge off through one of the habitats and disappear, then lightly tugged at the shredded cloth around his wounds. "Gonna need some scotch... stitches. Stitches and... scotch..." As the adrenaline faded, so too apparently did Tony's hold on consciousness.

Clint hooked his arms under the billionaire's armpits as he sagged, gently easing him to the ground. He took Tony's pulse, then cut away the torn fabric, revealing the injuries on Tony's already-well-scarred abdomen. The archer produced some paper-thin bandages from nowhere and pressed them to the wounds, starting some kind of chemical reaction that fused them to the man's skin. He looked up at Steve. "Stopped the bleeding. He'll be fine, but he could use a doc. And maybe some blood." It was easier to focus on what needed to be done at the moment. Every time he thought of Nat, he felt useless.

"Then we'll get him all he needs." Steve carefully lifted Tony into his arms, grateful to feel him even if he hated seeing the other man injured. As if on cue, a plane set down carefully just beyond the edge of the zoo. There would be some very pissed off air traffic controllers, but that didn't matter. 

Over the comms, Scott informed them, "No sign of a return trip or a landing. We don't have eyes on any of them."

"Thanks for the plane," Steve said simply as they boarded. He strapped Tony into a stretcher along the center aisle carefully before taking a seat. "We'll be home soon." Once again Loki had gotten the jump on them, and two of his team were missing and his boyfriend was bleeding on the floor of the plane. Steve honestly hated being strapped in when he would have preferred to sit on the floor holding the man's hand, but there was no point not setting a good example when he couldn't do anything for Tony until they were back anyway. "Have a doctor and some blood ready for Tony." 

"Roger that."

Clint took a seat next to Phil. Though neither of them spoke, it felt better being close to the man. It felt protected in some intrinsic way he didn't fully understand. They understood, and neither one of them would hold back if it came down to another fight. That knowledge was enough.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

"That's all we saw," Coulson explained, sounding none-too-pleased to have so little to give. "That's all we know."

Scott's stomach was twisted in knots. He wanted to fly off the handle and hit someone, but he'd spent long enough keeping such impulses in control that it was second nature. "So where do we start?"

"Something like that's gotta leave an energy signature," Bruce observed. "When Tony wakes up... well, between the two of us, we should be able to rig something."

"The only question is what the hell kind of signature it might leave. Teleportation isn't exactly standard." Phil looked annoyed at their ability to do so little with the lives of their team potentially on the line. "We don't know what Loki wants them for, and I'd rather get them back before we have a chance to find out."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Steve had gratefully let Coulson take point on updating Fury while he followed Tony down to medical. Being a leader meant sacrifices, but he needed to know that Tony really was fine and that no important organs were punctured, that too much blood hadn't been lost. He hovered like a mother hen waiting for the doctors to give his lover a proper once over.


	9. Life in Captivity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki plays games, Logan makes questionable choices, and Scott gets a gift that may come with strings attached.

Logan's eyes took a moment to adjust to the considerably darker surroundings. He felt his way around. Smooth, concrete walls. Bars on one side. //Vietnam.// He shook himself. //What about Vietnam?// No, he'd just been at a zoo. "Widow? Hawkeye?" Claws still readied, he scented the air. He could tell Nat was near. As his eyes adjusted, he caught sight of the woman and reached out for her. "You alright?"

"I'm alright. I'm also the only one here." Nat watched Logan's hand hit the glass between them and managed a faint smile. "Apparently he doesn't want us fraternizing. That's fine since I've never found concrete cells to be that much of a turn on." Slowly Nat rose, crouching as she got a feel for their environment and tested whether there were any lasting effects from the flash. "From one zoo to another."

"Oh, well said." Loki rounded the corner, battle armor set aside for his no-less-ostentatious day wear. "That's a good description of what this is. I want to see how far you can be pushed before you break. The mind control was fun, of course, but it didn't give me a good idea of your natural talents and abilities. I'd like to remedy that. I was actually thinking of bringing in one more specimen. Tell me, which of your friends do you think would be a good choice? I'm afraid Mr. Banner is more of a handful than I'm interested in dealing with... but that still leaves some very intriguing possibilities. Who would you sacrifice this time?"

"Okay, for starters, Liberace... First time we've met. Second thing, you're a little crazier than they warned me about if you think I'm volunteerin' someone to join me. And third," he popped his claws, "you didn't do yer homework." The feral mutant swiped the blades at the bars to the cage, fully expecting them to go through it like it was nothing. A sharp blast of blue light and a pained howl filled the room as Logan was thrown violently back against the rear wall of the cell. He shook his head as he caught the brief scent of burning meat, //That's me,// and shoved himself unsteadily back up to his feet. He glared at the god, teeth clenched as he fought back stupid rage that'd likely just get him cooked even more.

"If you're quite done being ridiculous, I think it's fair to say that none of us want this experience to be unpleasant. Am I wrong?"

"Very," Nat answered. "I'd like it to be insanely unpleasant for you. I actually wouldn't mind seeing you flayed."

"Are you still put out about your little friend? Honestly, water under the bridge, and the other one isn't even dead anymore. You take things far too seriously. All is fair in love and war, and that was war. This is something more... subtle. I've found a few new friends." Loki offered Logan a cold smile. "Mutants, I believe you call them. I believe that your people can help me and that I can help them. We all want something - a place to belong, a world that sees us for what we truly are. Tell me, if I were to offer you something of value, do you think you'd be willing to give me something of value in return?"

 

Logan narrowed his eyes, though he stilled a little at the mention of other mutants. //Magneto? Couldn't be... It sure as hell wouldn't've been Xavier, unless Loki had pulled some weird god-tricks.// "If you think I'm givin' up anything just to get outta here, you can stick that staff o' yours where the sun don't shine. You don't have anything I want," he growled, though he couldn't help but wonder in the back of his mind what a god could offer him. He shook his head as he tried to shake away his doubt. "I ain't makin' any deals with you. I could'a thrown Stryker's fat, bureaucratic ass further than I trust you."

"This isn't about trust. If you think that I trust you, you're sorely mistaken. This is about mutual need." 

"We need you to shut up. No one's dealing."

Loki glared the woman down. "Quiet, please. The grown-ups are talking." A flick of his wrist found a gag in Natasha's mouth and chains jerking up from the floor to bind her arms. "There. Now, where was I? Ah, yes. What I can do for you." Loki paced in front of Logan's cell thoughtfully. "You strike me as a man who's far less selfish than others might believe. You don't want anything for yourself. You want to help your new boyfriend. I believe he as in an accident as a child? Yes, he's never quite been able to control his abilities since then. A shame, truly, given his talents. What if I could fix that for him?"

Logan found himself considering the proposal before he even realized it. He'd be able to look Scott in the eyes whenever he wanted. The man wouldn't have to choose between hiding indoors and worrying about killing someone. Hell, Scott could live as normal a life as he wanted. More than a lot of mutants could say. Hating himself for it, Logan got as close to the bars as he could, looking Loki hard in the eye. He doubted he'd be able to tell if the man were lying. Hell, he couldn't even get a scent off the guy, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to try. "So, what kinda disgusting low do you think I'm gonna stoop to for that kinda favor?" There was no sense pretending it was anything but a profoundly tempting offer. Loki obviously had no trouble reading people.

"You'd have to let me into your head. You'd have to let me see what you're thinking, what you know, and how your brain works. Simple as that. I take a walk around in there, get what I need, and then I give your boyfriend what he needs." Loki spread his hands and gave a faint shrug. "Honestly, I'd think you're rather getting the better end of the deal."

Natasha made a sound of protest and kicked at the floor to get Logan's attention, her head shaking emphatically. No deal made with Loki could be trusted no matter how easy the price seemed. She had no idea what he could do to a mutant's mind, but she knew what Loki could do to a human, and the aftermath wasn't pretty.

Logan didn't miss Nat's gesturing. He glanced at her, wavering. //She's right... She's absolutely right. But...// The chance to do something like that for Scott was enough to sway Logan despite common sense urging caution. "Don't worry, darlin'. I don't know any o' SHIELD's secrets." He shrugged. "No threat to your bunch." Taking a deep breath, he looked Loki in the eye once again. The idea of the little bastard wiggling around in his brain was enough to give him pause yet again, but he finally nodded slowly. "Alright, but you ain't gonna find much. Everything older'n the eighties is kinda mush."

"Oh, don't worry. I don't need you to remember something for me to find it. You'd be amazed how poorly organized memories are." Loki's gaze grew far-away for a moment, but he snapped back to the present quickly enough. "You'd be impressed how little I care about SHIELD. The Avengers, perhaps, but SHIELD? One tiny bureaucracy." He tilted his head and smiled coldly at Natasha. "As you said, I tend not to weep for regime changes. I believe your world is due for one. Now, Mister... is it Wolverine? Honestly?" 

"Logan works," the feral mutant replied, crossing his arms over his chest and glowering. He tilted his head curiously. "And if you ain't worried about SHIELD or the Avengers, then what in the hell is in my head that you could possibly want?" he wanted to know. He couldn't imagine anything in his messy, muddled past that a god could care about. "I mean, if it's somethin' from the past, can't ya just do the 'mirror mirror' thing 'n' get whatever it is yer lookin' for?"

 

"I prefer a hands on approach. I'm sure you understand." Loki stepped easily through the forcefield to stand in front of the man. "Ready? Not that it matters."

Natasha watched, mute, as Loki placed his palms flat on the sides of Logan's face. She had no idea what he was looking for, but it definitely wasn't in SHIELD's best interest for him to find it.

Logan had to fight not to flinch away when Loki reached for him. He watched the god's eyes as Loki did whatever he was doing. Logan wondered absently how SHIELD would deal with him if they found out about it. //If we even get out of this...// Logan tensed a little as a few flashes of what must have been memories flickered at the periphery of his mind, but it was nothing that he could make sense of. The longer Loki held onto him, the more intense the flickers got, filling his senses with hallucinations, and Logan made a half-hearted effort to pull away. The god's hands didn't budge; Loki didn't even seem to notice that Logan was trying to pull away. The images faded a moment later, and Logan relaxed once more. "You about done? This is startin' to get weird, you holdin' onto my face like this," Logan pointed out, more than ready to have the whole show over with.

 

Loki simply smiled. "Of course. That's all. I'll pop in and see to my half of the bargain."

The god disappeared, taking with him the spell that kept Natasha silent. She let out a stream of curses in Russian and then took a deep breath. "Idiot. Even if he does what he promised, how do you know that's all he'll do... to either one of you?"

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

"I have a present for you."

Scott jumped in surprise, but the motion did nothing to dislodge the fingers from his temples. A flash of something uncomfortable but not precisely painful seared through his mind.

"Relax. This is a gift from your suitor. Logan says hello." Before Scott could recover enough to protest, slender fingers plucked the glasses from his pocket. "You won't need these anymore."

Scott turned to see his visitor and found himself alone in the room once again. "What the hell?" //Loki.// A moment later he was rushing down the hall to find Nick Fury.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Logan scowled at the woman, "So what? Not your problem. Scott deserves to live better." The thought hadn't occurred to Logan, though, that Loki might do something to Scott. //No. If he goes after anyone, it'll be me,// he reassured himself.

Loki threw the ruby lenses down at Logan's feet the moment he appeared again. "Done. Let it never be said service here is less than prompt." His salesman's smile broadened. "Don't let her tell you otherwise. Still feeling well? I'd hate to send you home worse for wear than when I found you."

Logan actually flinched slightly when Loki reappeared. His annoyance at being startled disappeared fairly quickly though when his eyes took in Scott's glasses. He picked them up slowly, jaw clenching as he caught the faintest scent of the other man on them. Loki's words sank in a moment later, and he looked up with an eyebrow raised. "So... you're just sendin' us back?"

"Ah, no, forgive me. You will be going back. Miss Romanov shall stay with me a bit longer." Loki smiled at the woman with no affection whatsoever. "Tell your friends she will be returned unharmed when the time comes... not that they'll believe you." He plucked the gold sphere from his pocket and, with a flick of his wrist, sent Logan back to where he'd started.

Logan opened his mouth to tell Loki how much he thought of that idea when he found himself back at the Avengers headquarters. Right outside his own door, no less. Deciding that everyone else could wait, he shoved open the door and rushed inside, "Scott?" He wanted to see the man, assure himself that Loki hadn’t hurt him. 

 

"Logan!" Scott jumped up from the couch but refrained from launching himself at the man given that Nick Fury was sitting at the table next to him. "When that weirdo showed up..."

SHIELD's director rose as well. "Is Romanov back too?"

Logan's relief at seeing Scott alive was tempered by Fury's presence. "She's not. He said he was gonna send her back. He didn't say when." Logan left out the reason he'd been returned. It was none of SHIELD's business in his mind.

Fury dodged. "Shit. I'll fill in the other affected parties. You write this shit down in the computer so it's common knowledge." He paused and gave them a significant look. "Before the reunion scene, gentlemen."

Scott flushed and waited until Fury was clear before grabbing Logan and kissing him until they both needed to catch their breath. "Now write the damn report so we can get to bed."

Logan couldn't resist the urge to steal one more quick kiss. He wanted to ask Scott what Loki had done, what had happened, if Scott had noticed any difference, but that seemed a bit too much like admitting to what he'd done, or at least inviting questions about it that would have forced him to either admit it or lie. He knew Scott wouldn't approve. "Gimme a few minutes," he said, hesitating a moment longer before pulling himself away from the other man.

Seating himself at the room's computer terminal, Logan quickly banged out a report of what had happened with a few key facts left out. He knew better than to admit that he'd voluntarily allowed Loki to rummage around in his head. The story that Loki had threatened Romanov seemed much more likely to be believed. The lie came rather easily, in fact. //What SHIELD don't know keeps them off my balls.//

After submitting the report, Logan shut the terminal down, stood, and stretched, then quickly returned to the living room. He raised an eyebrow and smirked faintly at Scott, crossing his arms over his chest. "Alright, paper work's done. You were sayin'?"

"It's a little late for dinner, so I was thinking cold pizza from the fridge, beer, and bed. Unless you just want to skip to the bed part. I'm pretty okay with that." Scott knew he wasn't being the picture of reserved patience, but he didn't care. He's spent half the day expecting them to find what was left of Logan in a box on the doorstep, and he wasn't in the mood to play coy. "Then once we're in bed, I'd really like to get laid."

What little resistance he'd had before he got abducted was pretty well gone. Logan had really wanted to take the high road with Scott, take things slow, but Loki had already stepped in and reminded them both that, in their line of work, there wasn't time for slow. Something was always out to get them, and trying to be chivalrous and noble about things was just going to rob them of opportunities. Scott had barely finished his last sentence when Logan pounced, grabbing the man and slamming their lips together in a raw, needful kiss that unleashed everything Logan had been holding back. He dragged Scott into the bedroom, stopping just inside the doorway to shove the other man against the wall and kiss him again, one of his hands sliding up under the hem of Scott's shirt to roam over lean, toned muscle. "Need you," he growled as he drew back to catch his breath.

Scott just nodded in return. It wasn't like Logan needed further incentive or consent. They both wanted the same thing, both needed the reminder that they were alive and well. He'd spent a lot of time doing what was considered right. It was time to do something that felt good instead. "Let's make it to the bed first, though, huh? Not all of us are pros despite how you found me."

The gentle words served to calm Logan a bit. He distinctly recalled Scott's mention of being a virgin still. //Gonna need to be gentle,// he reminded himself. He lightly nipped at Scott's neck, then stepped back. The bit of space gave the feral mutant a moment to clear his head and sink backo reality. And to tease Scott a little. Logan casually kicked off his boots as he walked slowly to the bed. Settling on its edge, he braced his hands on either side of himself and leaned forward a bit, giving Scott an amused grin. Logan knew how eager they both were. Teasing was mean, but Scott did look damn good when he was feeling needy. "You comin' over here, or what?" he asked, trying to sound casual even as a bulge was starting to form in his jeans.

"Nah, staying here." Scott held out for all of two seconds before he launched himself onto the bed and crawled up to kiss Logan again. He made a firm decision not to be shy and let his hand slide down to get a firm hold of the bulge fairly screaming for attention. It suddenly wasn't difficult for him to understand Jean's fascination. "This is... promising..." He grinned and gave a squeeze before moving his hand to the hem of Logan's shirt. "Off."

Logan couldn't help a cocky smirk in response to Scott's appraisal and the following monosyllabic demand. He gladly shrugged the garment off, exposing war-hardened muscle and a solid dusting of chest hair. His fingers cradled Scott's head and pulled him into a hungry kiss as his other hand moved to tug at the buttons of Scott's shirt. Logan succeeded in unbuttoning a couple before his impatient pulling managed to pop one loose. At that, he gave up and tugged harder, dislodging all but the last couple. Just enough to let him shove the garment down to Scott's elbows and expose enough flesh to his eager hands. The man felt as good as he'd looked stripping down for bed the night before. The idea that he was fair game now, the reality that they would finally both get what they'd been wanting, drove a low moan from Logan's throat as he worked Scott's neck with his lips.

Scott's chest heaved like he'd been running a marathon. He gripped Logan's belt loops to pull their hips into closer contact. His own cock had gladly risen to the occasion, straining against his jeans. The duel friction from the denim and Logan's body was torturous and wonderful. After all the uncertainty and fear, letting go was a revelation. "You have no idea much I want you right now."

"Might, actually," Logan returned with a brief smirk. He leaned in for another kiss, drawing back to relish the chance to look into Scott's bright blue eyes. One of his hands roamed down Scott's chest and cupped the bulge in Scott's jeans, stroking over it slowly, fingers tracing the outline of the man's swelling shaft. //Nice...// He used his other hand to grip Scott's hip so he could thrust his own burgeoning arousal against the other man. His mind briefly conjured an image of him bending Scott over the bed and fucking him into the mattress. //No. Take this slow,// he reminded himself, surprised momentarily by the vivid, almost violent nature of the image. It was impossible to dwell on it, though, as Scott's scent and touches kept Logan grounded firmly in the moment.

Scott's hips set their own pace unbidden, riding the movement until he had to stop or risk coming in his pants like a horny teenager. "Maybe you do," he agreed, "but only because I lack any sense of subtlety." He canted his hips and used his leverage holding Logan to roll the man onto his back. Immediately Scott started tearing open his fly and jerking down Logan's jeans before doing the same with his own. "Fabric is cumbersome. And pointless. And there's too much of it."

Logan had to grin. He still had his initial impression of Scott cemented in his mind: stoic, reserved, completely controlled. Seeing the man anxious, unabashed, and desperate was sexy in ways Logan couldn't even articulate. He settled for lifting his hips so that Scott could push his jeans down enough for him to kick them to the floor. Freed of the last of his clothing, Logan grabbed the back of Scott's neck with one hand and slid his hand into Scott's underwear, forcibly stilling his frantic movements for a moment as his tongue plundered Scott's mouth and his hand stroked the man's throbbing length.

"Keep it slow," Scott warned, "or this is gonna be over way, way too soon." The hot, urgent touch of Logan's hand all but made him see stars, and Scott forgot to keep trying to kick off his underwear in favor of wrapping his hand around Logan and returning the favor. "Remind me next time that I really want to suck you off."

It was Logan's turn to fight to stay calm enough to keep from cumming like a teenager. Hearing someone who'd always seemed so straight-laced utter those words was enough to make him lose his mind. Instead, he focused on Scott's earlier warning and slowed his strokes before withdrawing his hand completely. Instead, he tugged Scott down so he could lean up and suck at one of his lover's nipples. He paused to look up at Scott and run his hands over his back. "You know how good you look like this? Turned on and dyin' for me to fuck you?"

"About half as good as you look all hot and hard and... why exactly am I not flat on my back yet?" It didn't matter how fast they were going, it still didn't feel like enough. Scott shuffled away just long enough to kick free of hisunderwear before plopping down next to Logan and dragging him into another kiss by the hair. He hadn't missed the way Logan thrilled every time he said something dirty. "I want you to get me ready, and then I want you to fuck me."

Logan growled, his hand tangling in Scott's hair to jerk the man's head back and give him access to nip at Scott's stubbled throat. The words had been more than enough to bring out the animal in Logan, and he grabbed the bottle of lube from the nightstand. A moment later, slick fingers lightly brushed over Scott's throbbing cock, grazing his balls before lightly circling his puckered entrance. Logan had to remind himself to go slow. //Real slow...// Scott hadn't made any sort of a point of bringing up his virginity, and Logan wasn't going to play the "are you sure" game. Obviously, Scott was pretty damned sure, and Logan didn't see any reason to press the matter.

Though Scott was smart enough to feel nervous, he groaned aloud at Logan's touch. "First time with a guy," he reassured breathlessly, "not my first time. I'm good." He was more than good, actually, turned on beyond anything in recent memory. Scott did his best to relax so that getting things started could go well for both of them. "Believe me, I'd be broken by now if I was that delicate."

Logan nodded. He had to keep reminding himself of that. It was tough to get past the delicate state he'd found Scott in, but he had to remember that most people put in Scott's place would've been just as likely to end up dead or permanently crazy. Logan pressed himself close to Scott, letting his own throbbing shaft rest against his lover's thigh as he slowly pressed one finger into Scott's body. Logan watched himr closely, relishing the sight of those full lips parted in pleasure, and the hooded blue eyes that Logan couldn't get enough of.

The intimacy of looking up at Logan and having him look straight back was shockingly addictive. At first the press of the finger was uncomfortable, but it took little more than a deep breath to clear that. "That's.. it's different." Scott laughed quietly. He shifted to show Logan that his physical interest had not diminished in the slightest.

"Tell me if I need to stop," Logan answered, slowly working the digit in and out. It didn't take much for his mind to drift to what it would be like to be inside that tight heat, and he groaned softly. He was pretty sure that if Scott actually told him to stop, he'd lose it. He dove in for another kiss, using the moment to distract Scott a little as he slowly eased another finger into his lover.

Scott let himself get lost in the kiss to distract from the new stretch. It wasn't painful, precisely, but it was strange, foreign. The insistent slide of Logan's tongue and the throbbing heat of his body kept Scott's mind appropriately sidetracked. He kissed Logan back with abandon, mind filled with thoughts of being even more intimately entwined.The questing fingers finally found their mark and Scott jolted off of the bed. "Do that again... please?"

Logan raised an eyebrow as if to say "make me," teasing Scott with shallow thrusts for a few moments before finally stroking his fingers across his lover's prostate once more. He moaned softly as he watched Scott writhe in pleasure, giving the man just enough time to calm himself before sliding his fingers over the sensitive spot once more. "Fuck, yes," he breathed, his own cock throbbing anxiously.

Scott just let himself enjoy for a moment before venturing, "Just... one more finger, maybe, then... I'm not feeling really patient right now." He swallowed hard and tried to remember that both of them having a little control in the moment would make the whole thing better in the long run. Rushing would take discomfort into pain, and Scott wanted it to be good not just for himself but for Logan. He had no intention of it being a one time deal. //Patience is a virtue,// Scott reminded himself firmly. "A little more," he repeated as if to convince himself to take the extra time and care as well.

Logan nodded and obliged, knowing that this would be the point that might make Scott reconsider. He took a few more moments to work the finger in well, but Scott's impatient shifting against the bed was enough to break what little patience he had left. He withdrew his hand, shifting to kneel between Scott's thighs. He hooked a hand under his lover's knee and pushed it up a bit, leaving Scott perfectly exposed as Logan took himself in hand. Meeting Scott's gaze, Logan slowly pushed forward, fighting the urge to bury himself fully as soon as that tight heat started to close around him. "Jesus, Scott... feel so good..."

At first Scott let his nerves get the best of him. Logan was huge, and even going slow it was hard. Just when the pain almost got the best of him, Scott saw the look on Logan's face and heard the catch in his voice, and he gave in. The moment Scott's body relaxed, he felt Logan ease in deeper and groaned, pain suddenly the farthest thing from his mind. "Oh fuck." He read the flicker of unease on Logan's face and shook his head. "Good. It's good. Don't stop."

Logan wasn't sure he could have stopped if he'd tried. Leaning forward and settling his weight on hands planted to either side of Scott's torso, he began slowly thrusting, shivering as the pleasure thrummed through him. Leaning down, he brushed his lips against Scott's before nipping roughly at his throat. It was hard to keep perfect control, to keep from simply pounding Scott into the mattress. The man awakened every instinct, every desire within Logan.

Scott could feel the restrained passion flowing off of Logan. The man was drawn tight like an arrow waiting to be released. The thought was both thrilling and intimidating. He knew he couldn't let Logan off the leash yet. He wasn't ready. Hands unused to passivity never stopped running over Logan's back or threading into the man's hair. Scott was having trouble with restraint himself. "Slow like this for... god, just for a little bit." Scott breathed unsteadily in and out. His body ached for Logan to drive into him, but common sense still ruled somewhat. He couldn't shake the habit after so long. "When I tell you... when I tell you, then you can stop holding back."

Logan, barely able to articulate words by then, nodded and pressed his head into Scott's hand as the man stroked fingers through his hair. Muscles rippled visibly in his jaw as he fought to keep control. As if to vent some frustration, he nipped at Scott's collarbone. He knew he had to be bruising his lover, but he figured it was far better than what he wanted to do. "Scott..." he moaned, a combination of arousal and slowly breaking discipline behind the word.

It was obvious that Logan could wait no longer. "Now," Scott managed in a husky groan. He didn't care anymore if it hurt, he just needed to feel how much Logan wanted him. He jerked Logan's head up to force the man to look at him. "Do it."

Lust-dark eyes locked with blue as Logan clamped one hand onto Scott's hip with bruising force. He used the leverage to slam his cock balls-deep into Scott's tight ass, and Logan cursed and growled in pleasure as the heat seemed to envelop his very consciousness. He barely missed a beat as he started pounding into the other man, hooking his arm under one of Scott's knees and pushing the leg upward to let himself slide even deeper into his lover.

Scott's back arched, his mouth hanging open in a silent cry of pleasure. Maybe it should have hurt being taken hard and fast by someone as strong as Logan, but instead Scott felt nothing but heat. More often than not, Logan managed to drive thrusts directly into his prostate. Stars swam behind Scott's eyes as he finally let out a gasp of pleasure. "Fuck me, Logan... so good..." He'd never experienced anything like the intensity of being possessed by Logan, and he hadn't realized how badly he needed just that kind of release.

The dirty talk and the sight of Scott completely lost in pleasure was too much for Logan's control. He growled his pleasure, hooking his arms under Scott's shoulders and pounding into him. Well beyond rationality, he fucked Scott mercilessly, biting at the man's throat and jaw as he lay claim to his lover. His desire for the man was indescribably powerful. He hadn't realized how badly he'd wanted Scott until the man had pounced on him the night before, and even then he'd well underestimated the effect the man could have on him.

 

Scott knew he'd be a mess of bruises and hickeys the next day. The thought aroused him more than troubled him, though. Scott groaned at the thought. He'd be marked. He opened his mouth to tell Logan how good it felt and only succeeded in gasping as Logan drove hard into him. Every thrust slammed hard into just the right spot. It was a perfect kind of torture. Release loomed, and Scott just managed to groan, "So close," as he fought the urge to hold back for just a moment longer.

Scott knew he'd be a mess of bruises and hickeys the next day. The thought aroused him more than troubled him, though. Scott groaned at the thought. He'd be marked. He opened his mouth to tell Logan how good it felt and only succeeded in gasping as Logan drove hard into him. Every thrust slammed hard into just the right spot. It was a perfect kind of torture. Release loomed, and Scott just managed to groan, "So close," as he fought to hold back for just a moment longer.

Logan was in no mood to try and hold back. Scott's soft moans of pleasure, his scent, the murmured warning... It was too much, overwhelming Logan's senses and any restraint that he might have had left. He came with a roar of pleasure, burying himself with one final stroke as he filled his lover.

Grateful that he didn't have to try to keep himself together anymore, Scott let go. He screamed Logan's name as he came hard. The feeling of Logan filling him only made the moment more intimate and more surreal. Scott found himself staring up into Logan's face as if in awe of what had happened. "As soon as I'm sure I can walk from this time, we're gonna have to do that again."

Logan, panting hard, grinned faintly as he shifted to lay against Scott's side. They both needed a bath, but that could wait. He wrapped one well muscled arm around Scott's waist and pulled him close, pressing his face into his lover's neck. "We'll be doin' it plenty o' times," he decided, gently cupping Scott's cheek and turning the man's head toward him for a slow, gentle kiss. "You look too good when I'm fuckin' your brains out to not do any repeat performances."


	10. Nursing Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Logan tries to help, Tony is a terrible patient, and Scott takes his new eyes for a test drive

Tony's first conscious thought was that his mouth felt like sandpaper. A jolt followed as his eyes flew open, his last solid memory being of the fight that had landed him here. //Here...? Sick bay,// he assessed, relaxing and then smiling a little as his gaze fell on Steve, leaned over some book or magazine or another. "Y'know, smartphones're more entertaining. And make you look less like an old guy," he murmured tiredly. He could tell he'd been given painkillers. His wounds still hurt, though. "Could use a glass of scotch..."

"Yeah, well, I am an old guy, and no scotch until you're not on the hard stuff." Steve flicked the IV trailing into Tony's hand. He let himself relax, setting aside the magazine and reaching for Tony's other hand to take it tightly into his. "You scared the hell out of me. Again. Any chance I could talk you into not almost dying for awhile? That would be really nice." Steve couldn't resist lifting Tony's fingers to his lips, ignoring the fact that the nurse checking his vitals turned a vibrant shade of red.

"I'll see if I can work it into my schedule. No promises," Tony replied, smiling at the feel of Steve's lips against his hand. The minute the nurse let go of his other wrist, he grabbed Steve by the uniform and dragged him into a quick kiss, no doubt flustering the nurse further. He settled back and smiled at the blonde, wincing as his stitches reminded him he needed to stay still. "Ya know, you could've gone off and changed into real people clothes. Not that I don't think you look damn sexy all spangled up."

"I wanted to be here with you. Clothes are overrated." Even obviously in pain, it made him feel worlds better to see Tony acting like himself. "I'll change when you're ready to get some sleep. Rain check on that sleepover?"

"Think I've had enough sleep," Tony declared, looking to the nurse and pointing to his IV line. "You can just go ahead and take this away. I'll get my own cocktail. Maybe gimme some pills to go."

"Sir, Director Fury was very specific. You're benched," the woman replied. Though the blond would have barely cleared Tony's shoulder standing, her expression brooked no protest.

"Don't worry, ma'am, I'll make sure he behaves."

"I appreciate that, Captain. I'm not interested in spending the week cleaning the latrines because Mr. Stark is bad with directions." She gave Tony a final warning glare and left them alone.

Tony sighed. "I guess that means no sexy time for me. I gotta remember to teach these nanobots to stitch me back together." He looked to Steve with his best puppy eyes. "Seriously, you're gonna sneak me outta here, right? This sucks." He felt certain that the nurses were making too much of a fuss. It hadn't been that long since he'd spent weeks in the hospital over the Chitauri invasion, in spite of the fact he'd been able to get shwarma with the team right after. //Of course, the crazies from it might've had something to do with that one…//

"Tomorrow. After you've slept and rested and the doctor lets me take you home to keep in bed... for more rest. Until I can-" Steve's phone buzzed, and he fished it out, expression grave as he read the update. "Logan's back. Natasha isn't. Still no idea what Loki wants." He tried to shake it off and force a flicker of a smile. "She'll be fine."

"Well, she managed to outwit him once before," Tony pointed out, trying to reassure Steve. He could read the doubt in the man's eyes as easily as if Steve had hung a sign around his neck. Something he'd read in Logan's file made Tony frown. The drugs made it a little hard to be sure of the detail that was bugging him, but one thing stood out to him, "Why do you think Loki would release one and not the other? Or even release Logan at all? He doesn't do things just to be nice. Logan hasn't stabbed anyone in the face since he got back, has he?"

Steve frowned at the suggestion. "Not yet." His expression softened as he observed, "The upside of Fury's paranoia is that he's probably thought about that already. It looks like Loki wanted something in particular, information maybe. I guess something Nat knows too. Mostly I just want her home and you," Steve gave his lover's hand a warm squeeze, "back in one piece."

Tony gave Steve's hand a reciprocating squeeze and grinned a little. "I'm mostly in one piece. At least eighty percent. I mean, all of my organs are here and on the inside where they belong," Tony pointed out obstinately. When Steve gave him another of his patented "looks," though, Tony sighed and rolled his eyes, sagging back against the gurney. "Fine. I guess since I won't be talking you into a handjob in the hospital, I'll go to sleep."

Tony yawned, "You should get sleep, too. I mean, serum aside, you're cranky when you don't. I mean, relatively. You're still excessively nice, though. Even when you're... cranky..." Between the drugs and the rough day, Tony didn't have much consciousness left in him. Finally giving up on proving he was fine, he let himself fall asleep.

His breakfast was cold on the roll around table by the time Tony woke, but he still forced it down. He was already feeling a good deal better. Sore, but better. Noting that his IV was empty and that the nurses were gone, Tony started working to pull the lines out of his arm. He'd had enough of sitting still. //Didn't even have any real internal injuries... this is ridiculous.//

Steve cleared his throat pointedly and tried not to look too pleased when Tony froze like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. "The charge nurse said I can take over this afternoon… but not if you keep doing that. Keep that up and she's going to knock you out until your stitches heal. She already cleared it with Fury."

 

Tony sighed but stayed perched on the edge of the bed rather than laying back down. "If Fury has his way, I'll be wearing a cone of shame before this is all over," he groused. Uninterested in Steve dwelling on his escape attempt, Tony changed the subject. "So how's the rest of the team?"

"Sleeping, which is for the best. I saw Coulson on my way in. He said Clint's taking it as well as can be expected." Steve shrugged despite looking anything but casual about the idea of the team being fractured and in pain. "I'm just hoping Nat shows up soon none the worse for wear. How are you doing this morning?"

"Sore. But well enough to leave," Tony added petulantly. "Also bored. And a little concerned. I can't for the life of me remember what it was about Logan, but I feel like we should be pretty worried. Did he say whether Loki did anything to him? Weird beverages? Strange sex rituals? Questionably shiny apples?"

"A look around his head… which doesn't sound better," Steve admitted. "Unfortunately since even Logan doesn't know what he knows, it's impossible to say what Loki was looking for." At least thinking about it was getting Tony's mind off of being injured and disgruntled at the temporary captivity. "Could've been anything."

Tony frowned. While he had a ridiculously good memory, he hadn't read every last thing in Logan's file, but there was some filename or headline or... something that was bugging him. "There's something. If Loki can access Logan's missing memories... I have a feeling we may be in for trouble. I guess I'll have some reading to do while I get better." He sighed. "Any chance of you smuggling a Big Mac in here for me for lunch? One more carbon patty from the cafeteria and I'll scream."

"Done. It would make me a pretty bad boyfriend if I let you starve to death." Steve felt fairly confident in calling Tony that after the previous night and kissing in front of the whole team. "I'll also bring some coffee that isn't carbon dated." He looked down at his mug. "This is pretty awful, and that's from a guy who's lived on camp coffee in a war zone."

Tony held out his hand for the mug, then put it aside on the nearby table when Steve handed it to him. He grabbed the blonde by his lapel and dragged him into a long, gentle kiss, drawing away with a smile. "'Boyfriend.' I like that," he murmured, hesitating a moment before letting Steve go completely. What he really wanted was to curl up against the muscular blonde and stay there all day. Feeling that was a bit more than he should say at that particular moment, he instead grabbed Steve's coffee cup and finished off what was left in it. "Yeah. Yeah, you were right. Terrible," he said grimacing as he handed his lover the empty mug.

 

"Can't say I didn't warn you." It was awful to admit even to himself but Steve half hoped things would stay status quo for an afternoon so he had the luxury to simply be there for Tony. There were distinct downsides to being Captain America. "For now I'm all yours. Consider it your early birthday present."

"I feel special. I'd feel more special if you came back with a burger and wearing nothing but a bow," Tony pointed out, tugging Steve close again. He stretched upward - tugging on stitches that reminded him how bad an idea that was - and nibbled at Steve's throat. He knew he was probably pushing his lover's tolerance for PDA and public appropriateness, but it was damn hard to keep his hands off the other man so long as Steve was within arm's reach.

Instead of pulling away or chiding Tony for the intimate lapse, Steve leaned in and nuzzled against Tony's neck in return. "Really can't wait to get you home so I can just lay next to you," he confessed. Even sitting next to the man felt like being a world away when he wanted Tony folded up in his arms. "You scared the hell out of me back there."

"Ah, just a flesh wound," he replied with a shrug. "I've had worse. Remember New York?" He grinned flippantly am up at Steve before laying his head against the man's chest and closing his eyes. He listened quietly to his lover's strong, steady heartbeat and sighed. It was touching, really, how much Steve worried for him. Tony really didn't know how else to respond to it, though. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm gonna hold you to that. New York scared me too, and I barely liked you at the time." Steve felt sick just thinking about the moments of certainty that Tony works never open his eyes again. He put a hand over Tony's heart to feel the pulse of it. "I know you're tough. I just hate seeing you hurt. Upside is that at least now I get to kiss it better."

"See, you manage to make even getting mauled by an oversized freak of nature sound like a good thing," Tony decided, quietly enjoying Steve's touch. He wrapped his arms around Steve's waist and held him close. It felt nice to have someone just comfort him. It wasn't a luxury he'd enjoyed in a long, long time. "We can stay like this til I get better, right?"

"Mmm... I hope so." The dream was promptly dashed by Tony's phone ringing on the nightstand. Steve reluctantly picked it up when he saw Coulson's face on the screen. "Agent? He's here. Are you- yes, of course." Steve offered his lover a rueful smile. "Phil needs to talk to you."

Tony gave his trademark open-mouthed eyeroll as he took the phone. He railed at Coulson about privacy, scowled into thin air for a moment, then poked a few commands into the phone and ended the call. With a sigh, he tossed the phone on the nightstand and gave Steve a world-weary look. "These people get into everything."

"I can't blame somebody for wanting to talk to you," Steve teased in return. He kissed Tony's cheek sweetly. It was surprising but pleasant to find that Tony didn't mind the affection. He'd been terrified that Tony would insist he was above such things or something ridiculous - and utterly Tony - like that. "What did he need?" Coulson wasn't one to call and interrupt for no reason, especially with Tony hurt. On the contrary, the man had offered to play interference as much as possible so that he could remain by Tony's side.

"I think it was what Fury needed, actually. I guess he was thinking the same thing as me... at least, once his computer snooped through my computer and found the file I made for Logan. Guess I'll need to upgrade Jarvis's security again." He raked a hand through his hair, sighing and looking a little worse for wear finally. "It'd be really cool if they could not go through the computers in the tower that I built and they moved into, but I guess SHIELD doesn't play that way, huh?"

"No government agency does," Steve sighed. He didn't want to break the moment further, but he had to know. "Show me the file? Whatever is in it, we should know." Fury liked information, but he didn't dig past Tony's defenses without reason. Steve almost hated the idea of what the reason night be.

While Tony wanted rather badly to go back to cuddling Steve, he wasn't about to say so. Instead, he grabbed his light tablet - brought in courtesy of the nurses after some extensive bitching on Tony's part - from the nightstand. A few touches later, and Tony had the more important piece of information up. "Didn't share this bit with Fury, but I gave him enough information to put him on the right track. Apparently, Logan worked for SHIELD with my daddy dearest. Once upon a time, in fact, when you were fighting psuedo-Nazis, Logan was wading up the shore during D-day with his brother - who he doesn't remember - to go fetch a relic from under a religious site in Normandy." He showed Steve a scan of a grainy, black-and-white photo. The outline was vaguely similar to Thor's hammer, but somehow more sinister "This thing. I couldn't tell you how to pronounce it. Not enough vowels. Most folks thought it was an old Celtic doohickey, and it got overlooked by everyone involved. Except SHIELD. Logan and his team scooped it up, then Logan helped escort it somewhere safe. He's the only one alive now who would know where it would be." Tony poked at the other files he'd pulled and frowned. "What it does, exactly, isn't clear, but some of dad's notes indicate it's evil as hell."

"And Loki might have it soon." Steve felt a chill run down his spine at the idea. "And we don't know where he is. And he has Nat." Though Steve sounded calm, he felt anything but. He felt like he needed to sprint somewhere and make something happen, but there was nothing to do. There were no races to run. They simply didn't know what they needed to know to find Loki. He let out a slow breath and settled in next to Tony again. "I hope Fury knows where the damn thing is." At least then they could head Loki off at the pass and maybe have a chance at stopping him.

"I don't think Fury even knew it existed, but if anyone can guess where it might be, it'd be him or Nat or Coulson. Guess even Loki wasn’t up to going another round with Coulson." He frowned, then handed another tablet to Steve. It was the one he'd offered Logan before. "I know that triggering flashbacks isn't exactly the nicest thing to do to someone, but I think you might need to go find Logan and hold him down until he reads all this. If we can remind him of his past, we might be able to get him to remember where that thing is." He gave Steve a weak grin, trying to cover up the fact that the idea of sending Steve to piss Logan off worried him not just a little. "I mean, worst case, we find out if you can handle getting stabbed with adamantium, right?"

"Great," Steve answered, groaning and then kissing Tony's lips gently. "Fine. I'll go." It was the right thing to do even if he didn't particularly want to leave Tony's side. "You've gotta promise me you'll be good while you wait for me. I want to take you back to our room as soon as possible, and I just... I just want you better." He kissed Tony again, lingering until his sense of duty told him to get up and get moving. "Behave."

When the door to Logan's room opened, Steve was only momentarily surprised to find a shirtless Scott looking back at him instead of Logan. "Uh, sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt, but could I speak with Logan for a moment?"

"Of course. Come in, Captain," Scott answered in as business-like a fashion as someone who was barely dressed and obviously freshly awoken could. "Logan?" he called into the other room. "You've got a visitor, and the coffee's almost ready."

Logan got himself out of bed with far less grace and professionalism. Hair mussed and wearing a set of boxers that he'd obviously just dragged on, he glowered wordlessly at Steve as he stalked toward the coffee pot. When the man opened his mouth to speak, he held up a silencing finger as he poured himself a cup. Once he'd had a sip, he raised an eyebrow and leaned back against the counter. "I'm guessin' you've got somethin' important goin' on to drag yourself away from your playboy and risk talkin' to me before I've had my coffee?"

"You're a real ray of sunshine in the morning, Logan, but I didn't come for the company." Steve set a printed version of Tony's files on the counter. Despite Tony offering the tablet, Steve suspected Logan fell more on his side of the lines and still appreciated a little tactile sensation with his information. "I need you to look at these and let me know if anything rings a bell. It's all we've got right now, and there aren't many people around who actually remember it." It left the two of them in a very strange boat, but Steve had been busy with problems of his own while Logan played errand boy for SHIELD's earliest incarnation.

Logan frowned, staring hard at the pile of papers. His jaw clenched, and he glared at Steve with a lot more focus and malice than he had a few moments before. "Look, Apple Pie... The few walks I've managed to take down memory lane ain't been a lot o' fun. Been kinda the opposite, really. And I don't think you or any o' SHIELD's cronies are ready to deal with me if I turn back into a ravin' lunatic. " He put his coffee cup down deliberately and folded his arms over his chest. "I think you should probably look somewhere else for whatever it is you're tryin' to find."

 

Seeing the sudden tension in Steve's jaw, Scott stepped forward and looked the file over himself. "What exactly does this thing do?"

"We don't know. Tony said his dad thought it was pretty bad. Pretty powerful. He used the word 'evil,' which for someone who used to sell weapons for a living..." Steve took a deep breath and met Logan's gaze. "I'm not asking you to get yourself committed to a nuthouse, but we need to know whatever you know about this thing." He paused. "We need to know what Loki knows."

Logan shifted uneasily, his gaze wavering for a split second. "Why the hell would I know anything about some artifact, anyway? That was your deal back in the day," he countered, though he was getting a sinking feeling that Nat had been right. What did I know? What'd I give 'im access to? "All I remember was gettin' shot at in Normandy. I can't help ya."

Steve's hand tensed on the counter, but his anger toward Logan had ebbed already. "I know it's hazy at best. I also know that getting to where this thing is might be our only shot at getting Nat back." He reached out and placed his hand on Logan's forearm. "Please? Anything you remember... it might seem like a little thing, but it could help."

Scott tensed at the contact despite it being irrational to see the moment as anything but Steve trying to persuade Logan.

Logan felt his heart skip a little at affectionate touch. It vividly brought back some memories that he was pretty sure he didn't want Scott to know about. The way they'd been able to go at each other without concern for injury, the raw - //Okay, think about something else before you have to explain a boner to both of 'em.// "Fine," he said, moving away from Steve's touch under the guise of grabbing the file. He was relieved to see it only seemed to address one particular subject, rather than his entire past. //Hopefully one that ain't too rocky.// Skimming through the files did little to jog his memory, but the fuzzy picture of the artifact was another story. Logan remembered fighting with everyone on the team that had found it and was supposed to be hiding it. He grimaced as he recalled struggling with a man not unlike himself, finally throwing him into an icy lake. "So, Stark was right. I do have a brother. Or did..." Glancing up at Steve, he remembered that the man was looking for something more weird artifact related.

Logan held up the blurry picture, then handed it to Steve. "This thing? Looks like pictures I've seen o' Thor's hammer, more or less. But dark. Like obsidian. And... Well... You ever see Lord of the Rings?" When Steve gave him a blank stare, he sighed. "It makes people want it. Want to keep it for their own. Or at least, it did it to everyone but me. We hid it somewhere cold. Real cold." He thought a moment. "Siberia? Couldn't give you anything more specific." He wondered absently if Loki had managed to get more specific information; Logan's recall was far from neat and tidy.

Steve finally took a breath and nodded. "Thank you. It may not feel like much, but it's a lot more than I had five minutes ago." He took the file and allowed more breathing space between himself and Logan. Looking to Scott, he added, "I'm sorry about the interruption."

Though an odd feeling still lingered in the air, Scott waved the apology off. "The team's more important."

"Thank you. I'm going to take this to Fury. Just... stand by." Steve felt lighter knowing they had at least a vague direction to head in.

"Yeah," Logan answered, looking slightly distracted. He hoped he could play it off on the memories he'd just recalled. Explaining to Scott the romp he'd had with Tony and Steve sounded awkward at best. The tougher part was ignoring the way Steve's scent seemed to linger, and the place where Steve had touched his arm still tingled with the remembered contact. The faintest bluish light flickered in Logan's eyes as he watched Steve go, so subtle it could have been a trick of the light. "Lemme know if I can... help with anything else."

The offer surprised Steve enough that he almost missed a step, but he nodded instead. "Thank you." Since Scott joined the team, Logan had kept things carefully friendly, but it was impossible not to hear something more behind the question. He shook it off and hurried on his way, sure he was reading too much into the whole exchange.

Scott watched Steve go with a sense of relief. He moved into Logan's personal space as soon as the Captain headed out. "You okay?" He knew strolls down memory lane rarely did anything to make Logan feel good. The strange thing was the way he'd been watching Steve, a predatory flicker of something that made Scott think uncomfortably about some encounters they'd had involving Jean. "Sounds like we're in reserve until he has a chance to talk to Fury. We could go back to bed if you want." Scott said no more, uncertain if Logan would want to bury himself in the dark and sleep or do something else entirely. Given the thoughts he might've waded through to provide Steve even the small sliver of information, he knew it could go either way.

Logan sighed, leaning into Scott wordlessly and burying his face in the man's neck, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of Scott's head. He felt jittery from the memories he'd awakened, and for a few minutes, he hadn't felt like himself. "Let's... yeah, let's go back to bed," he said. Scott was a soothing balm for him, an anchor. He straightened a little, pressing a slow, sensual kiss to his lover's mouth as if to make it clear they weren't going back to sleep. Sleep brought ugly dreams and uglier memories, and that was the last thing Logan wanted to do right then.

Scott sighed, pleased and relieved. He hadn't realized how tense he'd been until Logan touched him and the ball of fear coiled in his stomach began to unwind. "Sounds good," he agreed with a smile as he walked backwards, leading Logan back to the room and kissing him all the way. It was awkward but well worth the slow pace not to give up the contact. Scott backed into the wall without meaning to and paused there. Beds were overrated, and he didn’t want to tear himself away long enough to adjust his course. He moaned instead and hooked his leg around Logan's hips to remove the unfortunate amount of air still lingering between them.

Logan quirked an amused eyebrow momentarily as Scott stopped at the wall. He wasn't about to complain, though, as Scott halfway mounted him and moaned in a way that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He tangled his hand in Scott's hair and crushed their lips together, his other hand sliding up under Scott's shirt and roaming hungrily over the man's torso. "Not the bed. Close enough," he murmured, voice thick with arousal.

"I kinda thought so," Scott agreed, chuckling and wriggling out of his pants while they kissed, sloppy and hungry and kind of perfect. Until recently, he hadn't considered what sex with Logan would be like or how he might kiss. It didn't need a lot of thought in the end. Logan handled sex and kissing with the same sort of brutal instinct he approached everything else with. The surprising part was the realization that underneath all of that, Logan could show true care, true kindness. It was something Jean had seen underneath it all and tried to assure him of. Scott had been too pointedly set on thinking of Logan as a lost cause to take her word. "You could have me right here... up against the wall...."

 

"I'm gonna," Logan affirmed, pressing Scott hard against the sheet rock. He was pretty sure he didn't have the patience to walk the five steps to the bed, anyway. He shifted back just far enough to get his fly unzipped before returning his attention to Scott once more, hooking his hands under the man's knees and pulling them up to let Scott wrap his legs around Logan's waist. He nipped at Scott's throat and gruffly whispered, "Need you."

Scott shuddered, turned on more than he knew he could be by something as simple as hearing those words from Logan. "Need you too... fuck, Logan..." The man was running from his memories, but it was still flattering to some degree being the one Logan chose to run to. He swallowed hard and let a hand run over Logan's stubbled cheek and into his unruly hair. "Do it." He knew it was likely to hurt after the night before and given that they weren't exactly bothering to stop for a tube of lubricant, but there were worse things than a little hit of discomfort when it came to getting off. He was still at least a little slick from the night before. More than that, he damn well didn’t want to stop. 

Logan's thoughts mirrored his lover's. He knew he'd likely hurt Scott, at least a little. The idea of taking Scott like this - all rough and raw and desperate - was too enticing to let him worry about a bit of discomfort. Already hard and ready, Logan guided himself to Scott's entrance, shifting his lover's weight to slowly ease him down onto his cock. He groaned out Scott's name, nuzzling the man's neck before pressing another commanding kiss to Scott's full lips.

The feeling of settling onto Logan's cock was delicious. The position forced the length even deeper into his body. It hurt like hell at first, but Scott adjusted quickly. He responded happily to every kiss and clung tightly to Logan's shoulders. Frankly he didn't care if it hurt as long as Logan didn't stop fucking him.

"Scott... Nnn... fuck, yes," Logan rumbled, thrusting into his lover, his hands bracing on the wall to either side of Scott's chest. He pressed his forehead to the wall beside Scott's head, reveling in the press of their bodies and the scent of sweat and sex that filled his senses. It was difficult to keep any sense of rationality about him as only thoughts of fucking Scott filled his mind. The man had an effect on Logan that was truly primal, and it was everything Logan could do to keep his wits in any sense when Scott was wrapped around him in every sense of the word.

Scott held fast to the man even though he didn't need to. Logan could hold him up easily. The raw strength of him was overwhelming and shockingly arousing. Just the thought that he couldn't make Logan stop but that he still trusted the man implicitly to stop the second he asked was hotter than hell. Panting just thinking about it, Scott used the tiny bit of leverage he had to move while he raked his nails down Logan's back. "You feel so fucking good inside me," he groaned.

Logan gasped in surprise and then moaned a second later as Scott's nails dug into him. It was a pleasant surprise to find that Scott wasn't afraid to push things a little, and the light tingle of pain just made the pleasure that much sweeter. That combined with his lover's dirty talk and the way Scott moved against him were perfect aphrodisiacs. Logan nipped at Scott's throat and kissed the bruises still lingering there from the night before. All too soon, the sensations overwhelmed the feral mutant, and Logan came hard, exploding inside Scott and crushing him against the wall as he roared his pleasure. 

Worked up as they both were, Scott wasn't far behind, his cock pulsing between them. He knew that by the afternoon, he'd feel enough soreness to regret the choice to some degree. In the moment he just felt sated. "Let's go lay down. Don't hafta sleep, but I think we're both going to lose feeling in our extremities if we try to stay like this." Carefully he unwrapped his legs from Logan's thighs and gingerly stepped into the bedroom. "Actually... shower. Shower, then bed. You want to join me?"

Logan stretched and nodded, his neck and back popping in a few places. He followed Scott into the bathroom, giving the other man's ass a slap and enjoying the view on offer when Scott bent to adjust the water. "You look good when you cum," he remarked, leaning against the wall and grinning shamelessly. 

"Feeling's mutual," Scott agreed with a smirk. He stepped under the flow of the water and held a hand out to Logan. "It's like you always look surprised... which I guess maybe we kind of both are with all of this." He closed his eyes and looked almost concerned for a moment as the water heated his skin and washed away the sweat and cum. "I've felt weird all day," he finally admitted. "Like... it's like when I'm charged up, power-wise. I don't know how to explain it, there's just this... this pressure. Energy, maybe? I'm sure there are perfect scientific words for it, but that's the way it feels, like something's curled up waiting in the back of my head. I've felt it all day, but I still feel normal too. I don't feel like I'm about to blast a hole in the wall. Or you. Which is good, I guess, since the dick took my glasses."

Logan slid into the shower next to Scott, listening intently to the man and trying to work out how to tell Scott that Loki had done them a favor. Or at least claimed to. What Scott was saying backed that theory up. "He just took your glasses?" Logan asked, brow furrowed. "He told me he fixed your... Uh... Your injury."

Scott's gaze snapped up at the words. It would make sense with Loki's cryptic comments, but he was stunned at the idea that Logan had been told something that huge and hadn't mentioned it. "That didn't seem important?" He didn't bother to hide his annoyance. If having fights or disagreeing on methodology would keep them from being together, they would never have gotten together to start with. "Logan, Jesus... if he really..." Scott's mind whirled. He wondered if SHIELD had a safe place where he could test the theory. The reality that he might finally be free crashed down on him with shocking force. The idea of never needing the glasses again but not having to hide away from the light, of being free to live however he wanted... Scott leaned back against the wall of the shower to catch his breath.

Logan tensed. "I didn't want to explain it all to Fury. The bastard asks too many questions," he explained. He moved closer to his lover, running a hand through Scott's damp hair and nuzzling his neck. "You need this. You deserve to have something good."

For the second time in a span of minutes, Scott clung to Logan again. He needed the anchor this time. Guilty questions swirled through his head. Had Logan struck a deal with Loki? Did his possible new gift explain why Romanov was still being held captive? Scott couldn't voice the questions. If it wasn't true, he'd be asking Logan something that couldn't be un-asked. He might be breaking the fragile new bond between them. He also didn't want to know if it was true because he wasn't sure he could live with that. Instead Scott breathed deep and stroked Logan's back. "I don't mean to go all catatonic, I just... I never thought I'd have a shot at this."

Logan held Scott tight, glad that the man hadn't asked any awkward questions. It meant he didn't have to choose between lying and telling Scott something that would just leave him feeling guilty and probably angry at Logan, to boot. "Sorry I didn't mention it sooner. Just... I wasn't sure Loki was tellin' the truth about the whole thing, and I didn't wanna get your hopes up." He smiled a little. "We should try it out, though. Go for a picnic or somethin'."

Scott laughed aloud at the mental image and then kissed Logan until his knees felt weak. "I'd like that. Maybe if it's true I can actually help get Natasha back." Whatever role he'd incidentally played in her continued captivity, Scott wanted to make amends. "I want to be able to do something. Y'know, apart from you."

"What? I'm not enough?" Logan asked with a teasing grin, still panting a little from their kiss. "You could help get 'er back, anyway, but I'm bettin' Fury'd be glad to have your help, one way or the other." He brushed his lips to Scott's, unable to resist. "Though I'm not sure how well I'd handle you bein' in the line o' fire now." Sure, he'd dealt with it before, but at the time he wouldn't have been all that torn up if Scott had gotten pitched off the Statue of Liberty. Now the idea of anything hurting Scott was a little scary.

Scott quirked a smile at that. "I'm not ready to get out there yet. We both know it, but I just... it would be hard to leave this one lie." He didn't know how badly in debt the pair of them were to Natasha. He didn't want to know. Scott sighed and leaned into Logan's embrace. "After that, maybe some therapy." Normally Scott wasn't big on venting his problems to anyone, but he suspected he needed it to get through everything. If he was going to really get back to work and normalcy, he needed some help.

 

Logan nodded. "I'll be there for ya, however you go about it," he promised. With a faint smile, he tugged Scott back under the water and started lathering the man up. "But as long as we're in here, we oughta get a little cleaner, hm?" It was really just a damn good excuse to run his hands all over his lover. 

Scott hummed his pleasure before finally admitting, "Not sure you rubbing me all over is the way to get clean. Definitely not mentally." He couldn't help but kiss Logan the first chance he got. The man was delicious. He grabbed the soap and did his best to return the favor without moving any farther away from Logan. "Not that I mind. I kind of enjoy the dirty parts."

The touches seemed to leave trails of tingling heat in their wake, and Logan rumbled, nuzzling Scott's neck. He grabbed a handful of Scott's firm ass and pulled him closer. "Not tired yet, hm?" he asked, clearly amused. It was hot, how much Scott wanted him. Being able to inspire that kind of lust in someone was a powerful feeling, and Logan's animal half could definitely understand and appreciate the primal nature of such pull.

"Parts of me are," Scott allowed. He knew sitting would be at least slightly uncomfortable for awhile, but he didn't particularly regret the ache. Instead he smiled wickedly at Logan and draped his arms across the man's shoulders. Soap suds dripped down them both as their bodies slotted together. They fit naturally, easily, and Scott simply appreciated that fact for a moment. "I'm not looking to start anything. I know you might be dragged off on a mission any second. I'm just enjoying," he gestured vaguely, "this. It's easier than I thought it would be."

"Ditto," Logan admitted with a chuckle. He ran a hand through Scott's wet hair, nuzzling at his stubbled throat. They were cuddling, he realized. It was a surreal epiphany, but one he enjoyed nonetheless. "I still remember wantin' to beat ya in a very different way."

Scott let out a harsh laugh. "The feeling was mutual. I wanted to kill you, actually. Multiple times." In the end, instead, Logan had saved him - both literally and figuratively. Scott had all but given up on everything, and then there Logan had been. Too smart to lose himself in someone just because of a hero complex, Scott still felt intense gratitude mingled with his desire. "I wouldn't be here without you, though. Even when we hated each other, in the end, we watch each other's backs. It's better now, of course." He smiled and kissed the man again. "A lot better."

Logan rumbled his agreement. "Yeah, I think I'd rather roll around with ya naked," he said, then winked. "Though the hate-sex could've been great." It was strange to think he'd hated Scott so much, even knowing that Scott had stood between him and having a chance at Jean. It was a strange comfort to have the man pressed against him now, though. Scott reminded him of all the good things he'd had at the school without reminding him of the painful memories that had driven him away.

"Let's get out of the shower. I'm clean. At least as much as I'm going to get showering with you. I can't stop touching enough to bother with my hair." Scott brushed his lips to Logan's shoulder as he shut off the water. "So this whole me with no glasses thing is going to make it a lot harder to sleep through meetings." He tossed Logan a towel and started to dry off his hair. "That'll take some getting used to."

 

Logan raised an eyebrow. "You rebel, you," he deadpanned as he started to dry himself off. "Never would'a pegged you as someone who'd snooze through a meeting. I'd figure that'd be tough to pull off with the Professor around." Tossing the towel carelessly on the floor, Logan sidled up beside his lover and gave Scott's ass a squeeze and his shoulder a nip before he moved back to the bedroom, stretching and settling on the edge of the bed. "So now what? When're you going to try out your new eyes?"

"Something tells me that a place like this has one or two rooms that can withstand a nuclear blast. Let's see if I can break one." Scott pulled together a makeshift outfit and reminded himself that shopping was a high priority issue once they were done worrying about the Brotherhood or Loki killing them all. It took a few false starts searching on the computer, but it was fairly easy to find a decent map of the building minus a few grayed out areas that Scott decided he probably didn't even want to know about. Every organization had their secrets.

He led the charge downstairs and was glad to find the room guarded by someone who wasn't a huge jackass. The blond woman gave them each a quick retinal scan and waved them in. "I'll let anyone else who shows up know it's in use."

"That would be safest," Scott agreed.

Though the woman gave him a sidelong look, she seemed more amused than pissed, and he chose to take that for acceptance. Inside Scott found himself momentarily at a loss. His method of control had been artificial for years. He honestly wasn't sure how to make his powers work without the visor. Frustrated, Scott glanced back at Logan. "It might be safer to wait outside."

Logan grinned broadly at Scott. "Afraid you're gonna kill me?" he asked, obviously amused. He'd seen what Scott's abilities could do unchanneled, but he was pretty confident that if he could survive a nuclear blast, he could cope with whatever happened in that room. "I'll be fine. Unless I'm makin' you nervous?" he teased.

Scott glared at the man. "I don't have performance anxiety, thanks. Just... it's... this is different. The injury happened when I was a kid. The first time I had any control was after the professor found me." It had always been artificial. Scott forced himself to breathe slowly and evenly. He wasn't going to let Logan see him fail completely. He might not be quite as useful in a fight, but Scott knew he could hold his own. //I can hold my own if I can figure this out anyway.// A few more deep breaths and Scott focused on a spot on the wall across from them. He felt the familiar pressure and surge and let the familiarity guide him. His body knew what to do even if he hadn't ever tried it this way. One hand rose as if to control the visor and ended up falling back to his side again as a beam of red, at first wide, too scattered to be effective, shot out toward the wall. The concrete - or whatever it was since Scott knew better than to think Stark would use something so pedestrian - showed little damage until Scott reached down inside himself. He wrapped invisible fingers around the beam, squeezing it, forcing it into something tighter. A small chunk of the wall flew free and then a larger one before Scott blinked a few times and cleared the ruby from his vision. "Well... it works."

Logan grinned, smacking Scott on the shoulder. "Knew ya could do it," he said, glancing at the wall. "Might not get the deposit back, though. I'm sure Stark'll forgive us. Hell, from all accounts, he's probably done worse to this building." He looked Scott over. "How's it feel?"

"Terrifying. Perfect." Scott laughed. He was almost shaky with relief that it had worked and, more, that he'd been able to stop it again. Impulsively, he turned and threw his arms around Logan's neck. "I can't believe I can do this. I can't believe I..." He refrained from thanking Logan. That felt too much like an admission of Logan's guilt. "It'll take a lot of getting used to. I think-" He heard a cell phone and let his hand slide down to pull Logan's from his pocket before handing it to him and releasing his hold. "Looks like you've got a message."

Logan sighed. "'Course." He gave Scott a mischievous look. "You can put your hand back in my pocket if you want, though," he added, before looking back at the phone. His face dropped. "Natasha's back. But she's not awake yet." He couldn't help the stab of guilt and fear. Would they believe her if she told them what he'd done? It seemed likely that if the woman could come to and point the finger at him that they'd take her word over his. Sure, SHIELD knew that Loki had rummaged around in his head, but finding out that he'd allowed it... Logan wondered if Scott would catch any trouble for it, as well. "Maybe we should go check on 'er when they're ready to let us in."

Scott nodded his agreement. "I imagine she'll have a tidal wave for awhile... but I bet she'd like to see you." They'd survived at least the first part of captivity together. It made sense to think Natsha might appreciate some time with someone who understood the experience even if she wasn't the sentimental type. "You want to head up there to wait, or do something else? Sky's the limit." Waiting was always the hardest part, and he wanted to do what he could to take the edge off.

Logan somehow doubted that Nat would be all that happy to see him, if she remembered what had happened. He felt a little guilty, hoping that Loki had done something to make sure she didn't. "Let's go on up. I'm sure Barton and some others'll be up there. They could probably use some company." //And I'm pretty sure I could stand to not be sittin' around, waitin' for somethin' to happen.//


	11. It Gets Weirder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki enjoys one of his strange bedfellows, and Natasha is a little too strong-willed for her own good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small amounts of plot, heavy dose of smut - in this case, Victor/Loki. Not your scene? You can skip this one without missing a lot that will mess up continuity for you.

Logan had already been released back to SHIELD by the time Victor had gotten word of his capture. It was irritating. A chance to talk to his brother, missed. But something had to be wrong. Logan hadn't sought him out. Even after their encounter at the Statue of Liberty, Logan hadn't seemed a bit interested in finding him, for better or worse. He hadn't seemed any less inclined to want to kill Victor when they'd met. Determined to find out what he could, Victor slipped into the holding block as soon as he'd managed to get away from his debriefers.

He didn't bother with greetings or to acknowledge their remaining prisoner. "Did Jimmy say anything? Did he mention me?" he wanted to know.

"Mister Creed." Loki's expression of polite interest was strained. Creed reminded him off his own brother: more muscle than brain and willing to bully others to get his own way. "You weren't a topic of discussion, no. We had more pressing matters to deal with."

Victor scowled, about to rail at Loki for letting the man go when he noticed Natasha. "Oh, she's nice. I get to play, right?" he said, moving closer and smiling like he'd been handed a new toy. He leaned on the bars - electrified only for prisoners, thanks to Loki's magic - and leered at her. "You look like you've got some fight in you. I like that."

Natasha stared back at the man before finally smiling. "Why don't you come in and let me show you how I like to play?" She even tugged down the zipper on her uniform. "C'mon... not scared, are you?"

Loki bit the inside of his cheek to keep from breaking the moment before Creed could decide. The man was impulsive but rarely as stupid as he seemed.

Victor pressed his forehead against the bars and grinned, openly taking in the exposed flesh. "Mmm, tempting," he purred, hands flexing against the bars, retracted metal clawtips glinting in the light. "But I don't think Loki'd appreciate me mangling his newest toy, and I feel like you'd force me to do some mangling. Maybe I'll wait and see if bossman'll let me tie you up later, show you what you're missing."

Any chance at real entertainment in the form of breaking his neck gone, Nat snorted and zipped up her uniform. "Trust me, I haven't been missing anything."

Loki laughed out loud. "You might be surprised," he deadpanned before looking to Creed. "I'm afraid I did promise to return her in mostly good condition. I just need her friends to miss her... and perhaps to find a thing or two in her mental filing cabinet."

Victor momentarily wondered what exactly it was that Loki knew that made him an authority on what Nat was missing, but decided it was best not to ask. Instead, he gave the god a mock pout. "I could play nice." He gave Romanov a grin that made a good show of his canines. "Just a... few bruises."

"Only a few? Now I know you're not up to the challenge,” Natasha answered sweetly. “Besides, being on top is something you earn."

"The more you talk, the more I like you," Loki observed decisively. He arched an eyebrow at Creed. "Are all humans so obsessed with having only what is denied to them when it comes to sex?"

Victor shrugged. "Dunno. Are all you Asgaardians into wearing drapes and antlers?" He shrugged, turning and leaning back against the cell bars, clearly unconcerned about Natasha or what she might try. "Besides, I'll take what's on offer sometimes, too. You offerin'?"

Loki considered that. He didn't have any plans for Natasha and her friends for at least another day. While he didn't like Creed much, it didn't factor strongly into whether the mutant might be a decent lay. "Perhaps. Let's retire to a more private venue." With a snap of his fingers, Loki moved them to his temporary quarters. Magical decoration made up for the flair the real room lacked. "You were saying?"

Victor looked mildly surprised that he'd been taken up on his offer but was far from thrown off his game. "Y'know, it's a little disconcerting when you do that," he pointed out, but stepped closer to Loki nonetheless. "I was saying we could have a good fuck if you wanted. Assuming you do that kind of thing." Victor was still out on whether Loki was a real god or not but was certainly willing to believe he was from another planet considering the stuff that had gone down on the news.

In the privacy of his own chambers, Loki dropped the glamour that was his battle armor. Wearing the real thing was pointless when he was doing little more than making a show for the inmates. His robes weren't much less elaborate but at least looked less likely to put someone's eye out. "I do that kind of thing." Admittedly being in captivity in Asgard had been less than conductive to having any sort of fun, nor had working with the Chitauri. "Unlike our friend in the cells, I rather prefer someone willing to be on top... and capable of living up to their billing. I look forward to seeing whether you do."

"More than capable," Victor assured, shrugging off his coat and letting it hit the floor. He had to admit to a faint bit of nervousness as he closed distance with the self-professed god. The man was powerful, no doubt. The idea of being a top for him almost seemed absurd, but of course if Loki was willing... Deciding it was best not to disappoint, Victor fisted a clawed hand in Loki's robes and dragged him into a rough, possessive kiss. His other hand landed firmly on Loki's hip, pulling their bodies flush together.

It was a brave move, one that Loki heartily approved of. "Very nice." He carefully shrugged off his robe. "I appreciate your lack of hesitation. Restraint is overrated." He paused, glancing down at his clothing. "In which case, I suppose drawing this out is foolish." Never taking his eyes off of Victor's face, Loki unlaced the shirt further and stripped it off to reveal flesh beneath so pale it almost glowed and leaving him in only a pair of tight black pants embossed with runes. Growing up Loki had never been particularly comfortable with his body. It was too different from the warriors constantly parading around him. Once he learned why he was so different, he had stopped trying to be like anyone else and embraced the things about him that set him apart from the others.

Victor took a moment to appraise Loki's half-bared form. He had none of the bulk one would have predicted on a god, but his lithe, toned body bespoke a different sort of power. He looked ethereally perfect, his pale skin contrasted against the dark cloth of his pants. Deciding it was fair to level the playing field, Victor quickly unfastened his shirt buttons and tossed the garment aside. Fingers tipped with retracted metal claws hooked into Loki's waistband and drew the demi-god closer. His other meaty, powerful hand tangled in Loki's hair and jerked his head back, letting Victor nip at the exposed alabaster skin of Loki's throat. Victor wondered absently if Loki would bleed if he was bitten hard enough, or if he even felt pain in a traditional sense. //Haveta test that in a minute...//

 

Victor was beautiful much in the same way as Thor: tight and muscular, but with a darker edge. That edge was the part that made him tolerable and even a bit fascinating. Loki bared his throat, giving Victor the access he desired. His own blunt nails raked over the man's neck. "You heal quickly, yes? I tend to bite."

"I do," Victor purred, shivering pleasantly as Loki's nails dragged across his skin, "and I'm alright with that." The hand hooked in Loki's waistband curled over his lean hip, pulling him close so that the feral mutant could grind against him. Deciding to test his luck - and discover any possible limits - Victor lightly nipped the god's throat once more before placing a rough bite on the place where neck and shoulder met.

Loki hissed his pleasure, thrilling at the rough contact. "Precisely," he purred in agreement. His hands slid down to cup Victor's denim-clad ass. "Gentle isn't what I'm looking for." It seemed Victor felt the same way. He pulled back enough to look down the front of the mutant. "Shall we see what we're working with?"

Victor offered the god an almost coy smirk as he stepped back, keeping eye contact as he unbuttoned his jeans and slowly slid them down. Stepping out of them, he stalked closer to Loki with no lack of confidence in his stride whatsoever. Hooking a claw in the loop of Loki's drawstring, he slowly tugged it loose. "C'mon.... I showed you mine..."

"Turnabout is fair play." Loki eased his pants down over slender hips and gracefully stepped free of them. Already his cock was hardening at the prospect of the evening ahead. A bit of companionship was the perfect way to celebrate his victory with Logan. Stepping in closer to Victor again, Loki sank to his knees and placed a rough bite on the mutant's hip. "All to your liking?"

Victor's cock twitched at the sight of the beautiful, nude creature kneeling before him. The bite on his hip drew a sharp grunt from him, but he smiled down at Loki as he took dark, silken strands of hair into his rough hand. The touch was oddly gentle for a moment before he tangled his hand more tightly in the god's hair and jerked his face a little closer to Victor's slowly hardening cock. "Is now," he returned, smirking with his usual cocky bravado. It was easy to let himself forget he was planning to fuck a man... creature... that could probably wish him out of existence if he decided to. Then again, Victor never had been adept at considering what might actually kill him.

Loki smiled broadly up at the man before tilting his head and running his tongue along the side of Victor's cock, watching it jerk and fill with blood. It was strange how giving up power when it came to sex could feel so empowering. With a look, a touch, a flick of his tongue, Loki controlled every bit of pleasure the muscular man felt. "Don't be afraid to take what you want. If I don't want it too, I'll stop you." He chuckled. "But if it keeps going this well, I don't think we'll have any problems. Do you?" Not waiting for an answer, Loki parted his lips and took the head of Victor's cock into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks as he worked to suck the other man to full hardness.

Victor's lips parted, his breath hitching softly as he watched Loki work. He looked perfect there, kneeling before the feral mutant. Victor couldn't help but thrill at the thought that a god was on the floor, sucking him off. And Loki looked like he was enjoying every minute of it. Heeding Loki's earlier words, Victor cradled the back of Loki's head in one rough hand and pulled him forward, watching his hardening shaft disappear under those perfect lips.

Loki gazed back just as intently. He relaxed his mouth to let the whole of Victor's length slide easily into his mouth and finally his throat. He loved the look of bliss on the mutant's face as he let himself take what he wanted. They both wanted it, after all. They both had needs that were being met. It was obvious that despite his apparently thick skull, Victor had the good sense to be frightened of him, yet he wasn't hesitant. Loki hoped his partner for the evening was smart enough - or stupid enough, as the case might be - to forget himself and make the chase feel worthwhile for them both.

Victor moaned softly, pleased with how clearly Loki was enjoying being used. Deciding to see just where the line was - if there even was one - he hilted himself fully in Loki's throat, holding the god there for a few moments before pulling out completely. Dragging his partner to his feet, he pressed their lips together in a rough kiss, then, with a wicked grin, shoved Loki back onto the bed. Instead of climbing in with him, though, Victor grabbed him by the thighs and pulled him to the edge of the mattress, letting their cocks press together as he leaned in and licked and bit his partner's lean, toned chest.

The mutant was vigorous, obviously driven by sensation, and it thrilled Loki. He relished the contact, threw his head back wantonly as Victor worried at sensitive skin. "I like the way you take what you want." Hooking his legs behind Victor's back, Loki rolled his hips enticingly. 

Victor groaned softly as Loki's cock slid perfectly against his own. He knew that he would only be able to take what he was allowed to, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to enjoy what he could get. Razor claws dragged over Loki's skin, and Victor was surprised at the thin trails of blood left in their wake. He wondered absently if it was an illusion for his benefit, but didn't care enough to ask. He was far more focused on getting getting the god to moan for him. He smirked down at his partner as he started a steady rhythm with his hips, letting their cocks slide together. "Hmm... never made a god scream before. Wonder how my odds are...."

"Getting better by the moment," Loki admitted. The man's powerful form and aggressive attitude were enough to put him in mind of other fantasies. Perhaps it wasn't the best indulgence to make, but he deserved the chance to let off some steam. Victor being willing to mark him was a surprisingly intense turn on. "There are a variety of oils on the nightstand. Choose whatever you like." He wasn't interested in teasing or playing, and he honestly hoped Victor wasn't either. Foreplay was well and good, but they weren't in love. They weren't courting, they were scratching a mutual itch.

Victor smirked, glad to know he wasn't the only one ready for the main event. Straightening, he drew away from Loki and grabbed one of the various bottles from the collection Loki had indicated. It had been a subtle hint, and Victor hadn't missed it. Not about to displease the god, he slicked himself up, then smeared a bit over Loki's cock. His fingers trailed lower, slicking his partner's balls and then his deliciously tight-looking pucker. Corking the bottle and tossing it aside, Victor moved closer to Loki once again, then grinned broadly as he grabbed the other man's slender hips, his claws digging into the flesh as he took a firm hold. "Think we'll do a different angle," he decided, using his hold to flip Loki onto his stomach. Victor allowed his throbbing shaft to rest between firm, lean buttocks as he bored down on Loki, pinning him to the mattress. "Much better."

It was, really. It was nothing against Victor, really, but Loki felt no need to gaze into the man's eyes or anything so ridiculous. He wanted to get fucked into the mattress. He rubbed himself back against Victor's thick cock and felt his breath catch at the feeling. The slick heft of it was promising to say the least. "Yes, this should do rather nicely." The pressure-points of pain where Victor's claws dug in were sharp but dulled soon to a lower throb of sensation that felt surprisingly like desire. "At least it will once you stop thinking and start fucking me."

"Don't haveta tell me twice," Victor returned, grabbing his cock and shifting slightly. He pressed forward into tight, yielding heat and shuddered, his claws digging into Loki even further. "Fuck," he rasped. The god felt perfect, just tight enough, just hot enough... He had to move slowly, letting himself adjust to the sensation. "God, you feel good."

 

Loki bit back a retort. The truth was he didn't feel much like talking. The burning stretch of Victor's cock was good. It was even better combined with the renewed grip of his claws. Instead of calling the mutant out on his choice of words, Loki managed, "You talk far too much." Forehead pressed against his own arm as Victor drove into him, Loki pushed back, demanding more. Perhaps after they both took the edge off, something a bit less hurried might be enjoyable. If he decided not to throw Victor out of his room. //We'll see how the evening goes.//

Victor had to agree that words were overrated. Especially with the god pushing back against him like he couldn't get enough. His cock throbbed inside his partner as he began pistoning in and out of Loki's tight heat, groaning his pleasure.

Loki let everything but the hard heat of Victor's cock flee his mind. He abandoned himself to the pleasure of it, his hips churning back to meet Victor's punishing thrusts. "Harder," he grated at last, the heady high of release dancing just out of reach as he strained for it. Loki wanted to cum before he had a chance to think about what they were doing and assigning any of his very real baggage as the culprit for the rather odd union.

Victor gladly obliged, releasing Loki's hips and digging claws and fingers into the mattress to give him purchase. He began pounding Loki with abandon, using his willing body with relish. He cursed and moaned with nearly every thrust as his climax built, until he finally sank razor sharp teeth into Loki's neck and growled as he came.

Loki beat him to the punch by mere seconds. His release darkened the satin coverlet beneath them, and he breathed in harsh gasps. As the moment passed, Loki sighed. The high had lasted for only a moment, but it had been enough. "You should go. I believe I'm ready to deal with Miss Romanov now."

Victor was already drawing away and searching for his discarded clothing. "What? No 'thank you'?" he said, grinning and chuckling. It had been a good fuck, no doubt. Surreal, almost intimidating, but definitely good. Victor pulled on his pants but didn't bother with anything else. He headed to the door, the rest of his clothes bundled in one arm. He paused by the door and glanced back at Loki. "Lemme know if you need some more o' this," he said, tossing the god a confident grin before disappearing out the door.

Loki smiled in return, though he knew Victor didn't see it. The man had some sense of discretion. He liked that, appreciated it. Loki rose languidly and took a long shower before he donned his clothing again and headed for the cells. He definitely needed to have a long discussion with Natasha Romanov.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Loki sighed and ran a hand through the woman's flame-red hair. She shuddered, eyes still squeezed shut, but didn't lash out. "This could have been so much easier. I told you that fighting would only hurt you." He continued to stroke her hair for a moment and then rose. The Avengers would be less than pleased. Loki couldn't help but smile faintly at the thought. After what they'd done to him, the humiliation he'd endured at their hands, it was the least he could do to pay back the favor. "I'll still send you home, my dear. What's left of you." Loki cast his gaze over the Widow once more and strode away from the cell, not so much as glancing back.


	12. Battle Damage Assessment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Phil & Clint bond and Fury gets an idea of what Loki wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is... it's all plot, actually. Just plot. No smut. I know, weird.

>> earlier <<  
Coulson took a seat next to Clint. Though neither of them spoke, it felt better being close to the man. It felt protected in some intrinsic way he didn't fully understand. They understood, and neither one of them would hold back if it came down to another fight. That knowledge was enough.

Fury had lived up to his name. He was angry at Loki, not at them, but since the team was present, they were the ones who bore witness to the Director getting as close as he ever did to truly losing his cool. 

It hadn't helped that Steve had gone directly to sickbay with Tony, but Clint couldn't blame the man. If it had been Nat... Well, she'd stayed at his side, even after he'd tried to kill her.

After Fury had stormed off, Hawkeye had lingered, sitting numbly in his chair in the briefing room as Bruce had quietly slipped out. He stood at around the same moment as Coulson, and found himself slowly following the man out of the briefing room, hesitant to leave his side.

Phil was proof that you could get tangled up with Loki and still survive, even if you were just a flimsy, normal human being. They both were, really, though the injuries Loki had inflicted on them had been very different. Clint felt like he was made of lead. He knew he should get to the showers and clean up, take his bow down, put it away, but it sounded like too damn much. "We're gonna get 'em back, right?" he muttered at the floor, the question flat, hopeless.

Bruce was off to try and find a traceable energy signature for the device Loki had used. Fury was fuming somewhere. Scott had been there but had barely spoken. The man looked too shaken to be much use, but he'd insisted on at least being there for the debriefing. Afterwards Coulson had suggested he stay on top of the techs even though they didn't really need it. "Of course we are," Phil answered as though that was a foregone conclusion. It was in a way, he just wasn't ready to speculate on whether Logan and Nat would be alive when they were found. "You need rest. A shower. Tony bled all over you."

"Yeah. Happens more than you'd think," Clint replied. He still sounded weak, shaken, but the try at humor made him feel a little better. He tugged at his uniform and realized that the man had, in fact, lost a lot more blood on him than he'd first thought. Clint hadn't been about to tell Steve as much, but Tony had been hurt pretty badly. //He'll be okay now, at least.// "Don't think I can sleep right now, though." By all rights, he should've been able to. He'd been up for two nights straight, following one mission with another. He sighed, feeling awkward with Coulson watching him so intently, the gentle, concerned look on his face that Clint knew all too well.

The archer felt as if he should do what Coulson said: shower and sleep. But he didn't want to be alone. Things felt unreal enough, and the idea of being by himself made him feel sure he'd lose his grip on reality completely. He couldn't think of a good reason to keep shadowing the agent, but he couldn't quite bring himself to break away when his turn in the hallway came up, either.

"Or we could have a drink first." He looked down at his own suit - liberally disheveled and coated with dirt and he didn't like to think what else. "Showers can probably wait." Seeing Loki had been harder than he expected. His chest ached, though Phil knew the pain was in his head and not his body. "Definitely a drink." Without another word, he lead the way to the elevator and down to the lounge and its wet bar - fully stocked thanks to Tony Stark's generous patronage. Coulson stepped up to the bar and smiled faintly. "You look as bad as I feel, so I'll be your bartender for the evening. I'm a scotch man myself. What's your poison?"

"Beer," Clint rasped, sagging onto a barstool and watching Coulson prepare their drinks. He was glad that Coulson, for whatever reason, had suggested a drink. Clint was usually a solitary person. He handled problems on his own, he sulked over things on his own, he had hobbies that involved lots of time spent alone. Typically, if he was pissed or scared or just moody, he chose to hide away in his room or a tent at a campsite rather than talk to someone. But right now, he needed someone who had some inkling of what was going on with him. As the bottle of stout was set in front of him, the archer took it with still-trembling fingers and dragged it closer to himself on the bar. He sipped at it before looking at Phil. "Thanks." He meant it in more ways than one. But he wasn't exactly great at talking about feelings.

"No problem." It was comforting just to hold the drink. Tony always bought the best, and the sharp, woody scent in the air was soothing. "We'll get them back. If Loki wanted them dead, he wouldn't have taken them. Simple as that." Phil took a seat at the bar next to Clint and offered a faint smile. "We aren't going to start losing to him now."

Clint quirked a faint smile in response. He wondered silently to himself what condition they'd get their teammates back in, but tried not to think about it too much. He took a long drink of his beer and sighed. "I do still owe him an arrow in the eyeball." He glanced at Coulson. "I guess you owe him a lot more." He didn't know for certain what had happened to Coulson. He knew that Loki had apparently killed the man, knew that they'd all been at his funeral. Then, suddenly, he was alive and kicking again. Back from a "vacation."

But if you learned anything from working with SHIELD, it was that asking questions about people coming back from the dead was pretty pointless.

"I don't know either," Phil answered the silent question. "I remember waking up, and Tahiti, but between Loki and that... I suspect it's better that I don't remember." The words bore the smooth marks of repetition. It wasn't an intentional lie, but it wasn't precisely the truth either. His tone softened. "I do know I'm grateful to be back." Reaching across the counter, Phil topped off his drink. "We don't all have enough friends to enjoy the luxury of being missed. Speaking of which," he inquired in the most neural tone possible, "how's the new recruit?"

Clint smirked, well aware of what Coulson was trying to politely get at. Knowing he'd probably embarrass the poor guy, he answered, "Oh, he handles pretty well. Good and resilient."

"Nice to know he's not easily frightened." Clint's exploits were legendary in the right circles. The man's attention always returned to Natasha, but he never seemed shy about using any port in the storm when she was otherwise engaged. "I knew it was a good sign when he was able to walk when he showed up for his shift. Well, mostly."

Clint had to actually chuckle at that. He had to give Phil credit: it was tough to fluster the guy. He went behind the counter and found the case of stout, taking one and breaking the cap off on the counter. "Well, wouldn't wanna piss Fury off by breaking his new toys, right?"

"To put it mildly." Fury didn't care who slept with who as long as no one was in traction when it was time to work. He knew that Clint was likely to spend the night beating himself up over Natasha. "Maybe you should call him in for duty tonight.”

Clint's smile waned a little and he poked at his beer bottle. "Maybe." It seemed a little weird to invite the man in for a fuck while Nat was still being held prisoner by a god who was basically a big old bag of crazy. It felt even weirder to think of possibly having Darien around just to talk to. He glanced at Coulson. "If I do that, what're you gonna do to keep from going crazy?" It occurred to him that he really didn't even know what Coulson did in his spare time, or how he would distract himself from losing his marbles over the whole thing. //He could just be trying to get you to go home and let him get on with his life,// Clint reminded himself.

The note of concern in Clint's tone wasn't lost on Phil. "Drink a little, read a little. Maybe sleep." It was an apt description of most of his nights. After his resurrection, his status as breathing hadn't been a secret, precisely, but it had seemed cruel to go looking for his cellist when she had already done her mourning. She deserved more than he could offer given the life he led.

The unmistakable sound of Fury's purposeful footfalls hit them first, the man himself appearing soon enough. "Gentlemen, Logan's back. He said Romanov is safe, but Loki isn't planning to let her go just yet."

Clint was immediately on his feet and swaying. "Where is he? Logan can lead us to him, right?" he wanted to know, dragging his folded-up bow off the bar where he'd left it. He was ready to fight, but his thoroughly sloshed brain hadn't really jumped to the realization that if there was something they could do, Fury would have already told them to do it.

"Sit," Phil ordered simply before grabbing one of Clint's belt loops and dragging him back to his stool.

"No. If I knew where she was, would your drunk ass still be sitting there?" Fury rubbed his forehead. "It'll be online in a few. This is a courtesy update." He looked Coulson over and then added, “Just make sure Barton's still alive in the morning."

"Of course, sir. Keep us in the loop." Phil waited until Fury moved on before he addressed Clint again. "I lost count. How many have you had?"

Clint frowned thoughtfully as he laid his bow back on the bar. "Dunno. Five... six... something like that." Clint liked beer. A lot. But he also didn't really make much of a habit of drinking more than one or two at a time. Five or six was more than enough to get him reasonably drunk. It caught up with him a moment later just how stupid his bravado had been, and he sighed, sagging against the bar. "Guess this is where I get the 'you've had enough' speech, huh?"

"I'd offer you one for the road but you'd puke it up. You might want to reconsider calling Darien. I learned a great many years ago in the most embarrassing way possible that there's a fine line between fun drunk and performance inhibiting drunk." Phil patted Clint's shoulder. "You, my friend, are the latter. Let's get you back to your room for some sleep before you have to wake up and start enjoying your hangover."

Clint pushed himself up and held onto the side of the bar for a second to stabilize himself. "Yeah, yeah... I should..." He belched quietly, dragged his bow from the bar and started for the hallway. "If you're gonna walk me home, you better get moving," he threw back over his shoulder, though his progress was much more in the side-to-side category and much less forward than he believed it to be. He really didn't expect Phil to walk him back to his room. It wasn't like there was a lot of danger if he passed out in a corner of the building, anyway. Worst case, Fury was the one to find him and yell at him, hangover and all, the next morning.

Phil followed at a safe distance, sometimes pausing to urge the man back into the right track. "Almost there," he informed Clint. The archer didn't seem likely to recognize his own room in his current state. "Stumble to your right. No, the other door."

After three or four tries and insistently rejecting Coulson's offers of help, Clint managed to get the door open. A little too drunk to care or remember to secure the door, he wobbled inside, tossing his bow on the chair and staggering to the couch. Quiver, field gear, and uniform still firmly in place, he flopped face-down onto the couch. He reached up and dragged a poorly-folded fleece throw from the back of it down onto himself, but didn't really manage to pull it out evenly or properly cover himself before passing out.

Phil sighed and followed the man inside. In the space of a few seconds, he managed to get Clint free of at least his bow and boots, then pulled the blanket up more fully. "Sweet dreams." Absent a key, Phil settled for just closing the door on the way out.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Clint woke the next morning with just enough hangover to make him grumpier than usual. He vaguely remembered dragging himself back to his room, but that was about it. He didn't bother shaving, but made sure to shower and brush his teeth. He pulled on a pair of track pants, a t-shirt and a gray sleeveless hoodie before staggering into the kitchen to make himself some coffee. //Where the hell is Rogers?// The Cap usually had them some coffee made. Then he recalled Stark being injured and remembered that Steve was likely still taking care of him.

"You look like hell," Darien observed as he looked Clint over. Considering the mission logs he's been cataloging the day before, Darien couldn't say he was surprised. A bender was the least Clint deserved. He tried not to think too much about what company Clint had been in while he went on it. "Coffee coming up." As he moved around getting a pot started, Darien ventured, "Any word yet?"

Clint settled at one of the counter stools and shook his head. "Not much. Loki sent Logan back but still has Nat. Logan said he was going to send her back. I'm just afraid of how he's gonna send her back," he said, playing absently with one of the salt shakers. The lights in the kitchen felt unpleasantly intense, and he pulled his hood up with a grumble of discomfort. "Coulson seems to think we'll get her back. He usually knows stuff," he mumbled.

"He seems pretty together," Darien agreed. "I'd tend to think that his professional opinion is likely to be right." He still didn't understand the half of Loki's story, but from what he heard, Coulson had been in the thick of things the first time. He didn't believe half the stories, but if some of them were true, they were all in trouble. "They have any idea what the dick wants?"

Clint shrugged, still staring at the countertop to keep the light from getting him. "Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together, mass hysteria... He's the god of mischief. Oh, and also, I hear he wants his own personal planet and slave race. So there's that." He looked up, squinting bloodshot eyes at Darien from under his hoodie. "Please tell me there's coffee now."

Darien had to fight the urge to kiss the frown off of Clint's face. He reminded himself that their relationship wasn't that kind. At best they were friends. He shook it off and poured Clint a cup of coffee. "You look like a man who needs it black right about now."

The coffee cup more or less disappeared under the hoodie, and Clint sighed before finally looking up and offering Darien a faint smile. "Thanks," he said. When Darien strayed a little too close, he caught the man by the sleeve and pulled him into a quick, rough kiss. The contact was possessive, not warm, and Clint punctuated it with an appreciative slap on Darien's ass. "Working already."

"I thought it would take at least two cups before he was that perky." Phil had been effectively summoned by the smell of coffee.

Darien blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Fresh pot. Help yourself."

"I knew I liked you." Phil poured himself a cup and appraised Clint carefully. "Thanks to you, this one may even live."

Clint smirked at Darien's flustered response. Coulson had a way of turning up whenever it was most awkward. It was one of the Agent's charms. "Darien's pretty good at the whole coffee thing. I think I'll try him at making sandwiches next." He made a show of looking at Darien's feet. "Might have to get rid of those shoes, first, though."

"Fuck off," Darien groaned.

Coulson poured a liberal splash of milk into his coffee before addressing Clint again. "I've got a meeting with Fury in ten to go over Logan's report. You're welcome. Captain Rogers and Stark obviously won't be present." He gave Darien an apologetic smile. "Sorry, your clearance isn't quite there yet."

"No worries. Meetings are not, surprisingly, my favorite."

Clint normally would have said no, as well. If he could avoid a meeting, he'd do it. He much preferred the "get orders, put arrows in people, come home" routine, but when it came to anything possibly pertaining to getting Nat back, he was willing to sit through a briefing. "Yeah, I'll go. Maybe I can offer," his voice hitched a little, "some insight." He topped off his coffee and gave Darien a quick peck on the cheek and another ass slap. "Thanks again." He turned to Coulson. "Let's go. Provided Fury can deal with me showing up in street clothes."

“We won't give him a choice. Thanks again for the coffee," he added to Darien, earning a wave in return. Once they were out of Darien's earshot, Phil observed, "He's cute. And the coffee is excellent." He knew that Clint wasn’t just hiding his face because of his hangover. The hoodie was another wall to block out the world.

"Yeah," Clint agreed, pushing the hood back and scowling at the lights in the hallway. "He's a pretty nice package," he said, running a hand through his mussed hair in an ineffective attempt to smooth it. He managed a valiant smirk. "Still needs to work on his ability to stand up to your unexpected appearances at awkward moments, though. Lotta blushing."

"No one's perfect. Personally I always vet their ability to make cookies. Life's too short to skip dessert." Phil held the door open when they reached the meeting room. "Sir," he greeted Fury. "Any updates?"

Fury scowled. "Not much. Though our systems are pointing to one of Stark's files as having some information we should be aware of." He pointed at a screen which appeared to be monitoring some sort of decryption process. "Trouble is getting into it."

"Sir, have you considered just asking nicely?"

"Barton, when was the last time you saw Stark do anything I wanted him to?"

Clint started to argue, then shut his mouth. "Fair. Maybe I could ask?" he suggested, pulling out his cellphone.

Fury shook his head and looked to Phil. "Agent Coulson. You didn't have much trouble convincing Stark to cooperate before..."

"That's not entirely accurate, sir... but I'll be happy to ask." He pulled out his cell. They didn't have a lot of time to lose. As he waited for Stark to answer, Phil found himself hoping the man was on some pretty good drugs.

Clint could hear Tony's voice on the other end of the line.

"This had better be good. I'm enjoying my favorite cocktail and Cap." There was a pause as Coulson relayed his request, then, "You people have really got to learn what 'personal space' means." Another awkward pause in which neither of the man said anything. "Fine. If you people will leave me alone." There was a quiet click as the connection was terminated from the other end.

The file on the monitor immediately flashed that it was ready for reading. Fury typed in a search string. A few seconds of reading, and the Director shot up out of his chair. "Shit!"

Clint was immediately on his feet. "Sir?"

Fury was two steps from the door already. "Just stand by. Stay within twenty four hours of HQ, and don't get drunk again until I tell you you can. I have to go make a long distance phone call."

Clint was going to ask what the problem was, but Fury was already gone. He glanced at the monitor Fury had been staring at and felt the blood drain from his face. It was a list of SHIELD operatives from World War II. Sandwiched between a "Creed" and a "Keating" was the name James Howlett and a picture of a man who looked exactly like Logan. "Uh... that's... probably bad."

"That may actually mean we're screwed, yes," Phil agreed. "It may be why they still have Romanov. If Loki or his allies are looking for something, she might know some of the places SHIELD would put it." He stared at the file as if it might somehow spit out more information. "So much for drinking to forget."

Clint felt panic threatening again, and he took a few deep breaths in a semi-effective attempt to calm himself. What did Logan know? What did Loki want with Nat? And where the hell was Thor when his brother was on Earth causing problems? Clint knew he should have been more worried about the former and the latter, but all he could really focus on was Nat and whether they'd actually be getting her back. "Phil..." He almost never called Coulson by his first name, but it seemed weird to call him anything else as he confessed, "I don't wanna think about what he'll do to her to get that information."

Phil sighed and nodded slowly. "I don't either. We just have to remember that Nat's stronger than she seems - which is kind of a scary thought." The joke fell flat, but it had helped to attempt the humor. Straightening, he couldn't resist putting a hand on Clint's shoulder. They both needed the comfort. "She's a survivor. Can you really picture Natasha Romanov letting herself get taken down by this?" Dangerous as all their lives were, Clint and Nat were the pair he would put his money on outliving the lot of them. They were both too smart and too determined to do anything else. At least he hoped they were. "Right now we see what Director Fury can find out. If we can find out where whatever Loki's looking for is, we can head him off at the pass. It's our best play right now."

Clint nodded, looking up at Coulson with a weak smile. "I really need a beer right now," he grumbled, standing and sighing. It was way too early in the morning, though, to be drinking, and Fury had explicitly told them to stay sober, to boot. //Damn me and my compulsion to do what I'm told.// He had to give it to Stark: the guy was good at not giving a shit when it came to things like that. Being a man of action, it was tough as hell for Clint to deal with being told he had to wait and see. "So, what do you do at times like this? Because my idea was already shot down."

Phil sighed. The truth was that since his return, he'd found himself unable to corral his racing thoughts at times and not a lot had worked well. "The important thing is to take care of yourself. Right now that means distraction. Drinking's off the list and after last night I'm pretty sure you'd be due for a lot worse than a hangover anyway." Forcing a smile, he suggested, "Go see if Darien's done playing barista. I'll do whatever research my clearance level allows." //And try to stay busy enough not to think too hard about any of this.//

 

"Yeah... Fair enough." A good romp would probably help clear his head. It sure beat the hell out of sitting around, staring at a wall. "Catch ya later."


	13. Sleepers & Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nat is back, Clint & Phil visit Xavier's, and SHIELD gets suspicious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is long. Really long. Sorry about that. There's a touch of smut with Clint & Darien toward the start, but this is mostly plot. Not sorry about that part.

Darien was still in the kitchen, and Clint couldn't help but smirk as he crept up behind the man. Pressing himself fully against Darien's back, he ran a hand down the man’s chest and took a firm grip of his cock through his jeans. "Gotta learn to keep your guard up better," he whispered in Darien's ear. "Something... bad... might happen."

Darien tossed his head back and groaned. "Yeah. It could. Especially if a wicked, evil guy was to take me back to his room." He smirked, looking back at Clint. "Meeting done?" It definitely felt like Clint wanted some playtime, but he hated to assume anything. Darien knew with his luck that Clint might just be winding him up to let him down. The guy definitely had enough of a cruel streak to manage it.

Clint nodded casually, almost managing to look completely innocent as he glanced around the kitchen. "Yep, all done. Just making sure there aren't any evil bastards in here to get you all worked up and do absolutely nothing about it," he said, the hint of mischief in his clear blue eyes becoming evident. He didn't really care if anyone caught them. The worst it'd earn him was a dressing down. //Wouldn't be a first…//

"Don't you dare," Darien answered, turning in Clint's arms and kissing him hard on the mouth. "Don't you fucking dare leave me like this unless you want me finding somebody else to take care of it." He knew it was playing with fire to even think about making Clint jealous - assuming he could be jealous. "You sure you're not the man for the job?"

"You like making me jealous, don't you?" he growled, pressing Darien back against the counter and grinding their hips together. "You keep pushing your luck and I might pretend I forgot just how much mileage I put on your ass and fuck you some more. Right here over the counter." Clint's hands slid under Darien's shirt, roaming possessively over his torso as the archer leaned in for another harsh kiss. "Or maybe I'll just take you back to my room, tie you up, let you think about what you said."

 

"You can go ahead and fuck me right here." Darien doubted his sanity would hold out as long as Clint's could when it came to real torture. "Unless your friend Agent Coulson is due back, in which case I'd rather retire to your room, just without the lack of resolution."

Clint smirked. "No idea where Coulson is. That's the fun," he purred, deftly unfastening Darien's fly and unceremoniously grabbing the man's cock. He leaned in and nipped at his partner's throat, stroking Darien slowly. "Or, y'know, anyone else, for that matter. Besides, who cares? You didn't seem so shy the other night..."

"Valid point. Very valid." Panting, Darien gave up on the idea of pride. He wanted to get off, and he wanted it as soon as possible. "Right here works, then. You just tell me how you want it. I guess at this point it's dumb to pretend anything is off the menu."

"Well, your ass is getting some mileage on it, and I'm thinking I should probably let you have a rest, so..." Clint shoved his partner to the floor and pushed his pants down far enough to expose himself. "I think you can guess what the next step is..."

"If I was too dumb to know that, I don't think you'd even be here with me," Darien countered as he took hold of Clint's hips. The man was hard and ready, and he started in without giving Clint a second to adjust. Clint could play all the games he wanted, but Darien wasn't in doubt about his own skills and worth. He knew he could drive Clint just as crazy as the man drove him. He sucked hard and then pulled back until Clint's cock almost left his mouth only to dive forward again until it bumped against the back of his throat.

There was a loud thump as Clint's hands hit the counter behind Darien's head. The archer held on for dear life as he worked to calm himself. "Fuck," he growled, moaning a second later as he felt his cock hit the back of his partner's throat. "Nng... I think this might be a better use for that smartass mouth of yours," he murmured, shuddering as he leaned back from the countertop enough to watch Darien impale himself on Clint's shaft once more.

If he'd wanted to stop, Darien might have pointed out that Clint could use some shutting up from time to time too. Instead he kept working and let himself get off on Clint's obvious arousal. It didn't take feeling Clint's cock pulsing in his throat to know the guy enjoyed every last move he made.Clint was hot and willing and more adventurous than most of the guys Darien had found over the years: all in all a damn nice change of pace. His hands slid back to grab Clint's ass and force the man in deeper. He also happened to have one of the sexiest asses Darien had been privileged to see.

The archer took a shuddering gasp, trying to calm himself as Darien rammed Clint's throbbing shaft down his throat like he was starving for it. "Fuck!" he gasped, his knees shaking as he fought to hold himself up. It was rare he got someone so willing to do just as he asked, who didn't chicken out the first time Clint demanded something unusual from them. "Fuck, your throat... feels so good..." he breathed, already feeling close to the edge.

Darien knew that. He just stared up at Clint's flushed face and hollowed his cheeks. It was good being used, though not for the reasons most people would've assumed. Okay, yes, maybe he was a bit of a masochist, but he didn't want to be hurt. Darien just enjoyed pushing the limits and finding out how far his mind and body could go. It was part of the reason he'd been so ready to engage in criminal activity before SHIELD found him. Dragging Clint in again, a hard jerk to the man's hips to show him just what to do, Darien wondered exactly what kind of mess he'd gotten himself into this time.

Taking Darien's cue, Clint hooked a hand behind the man's skull and started thrusting, his other hand keeping a white-knuckle grip on the countertop. With an unrestrained cry, he came down Darien's throat, burying himself balls-deep in the tight heat. He held Darien there a little longer than was strictly polite before staggering backwards and sliding to the floor, his back against the cabinets opposite Darien. He grinned sloppily and let his head fall back, panting and clearly a bit more relaxed than he had been a few moments ago.

"Any chance I can get a hand with this?" Darien gave his dripping cock a few slow strokes. "Or do you like to watch?" He didn't really mind dealing with the problem himself, but being touched by Clint certainly sounded more fun.

Clint propped his elbows on his knees and loosely hooked his fingers together in front of himself, watching Darien for a few moments before finally pushing himself up and crawling closer. He grabbed Darien by the chin and hissed in the other man's ear, "Only because I want to hear you moan for me like a little bitch." Darien had pretty well had the archer at his mercy a few moments ago, and Clint wasn't going to just let something like that slide. He shoved Darien's hands away and wrapped his own fingers around the other man's shaft, pumping slowly and watching his partner with wicked blue eyes.

Darien silently praised whatever gods might be listening for Clint's calloused hands hot and urgent on his cock. It was sexy as hell to watch Clint watching him. The guy had a predatory intensity mixed with a bizarrely flippant sense of humor. It all got wrapped up together to be beyond hot. He wished that the previous day's activity hadn't left him too sore to beg to be fucked properly, but that would have hurt like hell and not been particularly fun. Maybe another day, Darien thought hopefully. He was all for having a few good fuck buddies on the team given that most of his new companions looked like they'd stepped out of an underwear catalog. "Not gonna take much... watching you fuck my mouth was too sexy. You look so damn hot when you cum, Clint..."

Clint, clearly pleased with the praise, stroked Darien steadily. "Like getting me off that much, hm? Could do with more of that later. Love feeling those lips wrapped around my cock, using your throat..." he purred, giving Darien's cock a good squeeze as if to drive the point home.

Darien grunted in reply and thrust forward into Clint's grip. It was a touch uncomfortable without lube, but not nearly enough to make him want to stop. A little chafing was worth it for a good orgasm. "I could probably be persuaded," the man agreed despite his voice already being rough from letting the man fuck his throat with such abandon the first time. In fact, Darien knew he would gladly get Clint off pretty much anytime the man was game, but there was no point in sounding like a slut even if he kind of was one when it came to the archer.

 

"It's a date," Clint dead panned, then leaned in for a harsh kiss. His tongue thrust suggestively against Darien's as he began pumping the man's cock with abandon. He wasn't about to advertise it, but he loved the way he had Darien wrapped around his little finger. The man looked too perfect when he was turned on.

Darien took only a few more strokes to find his release. He gasped and moaned into Clint's mouth, the sound breaking free at the end of the kiss, and his cum splashing over Clint's hand. It was strange to sit exposed in the middle of the kitchen getting jerked off by someone he'd only known for a few days, but it wasn't bad strange. Darien cursed at the sound of footsteps on the other side of the counter and hurriedly grabbed for a towel as he tucked himself back into his slacks.

Phil froze when he got close enough to see Clint and Darien's legs tangled together on the floor. Without seeing more, he had no idea just what was going on, but he knew it didn’t invite extra company. "Sorry. Coffee run. I'll... come back later."

Clint managed to pull himself together much more quickly, and he stood from behind the counter, raking a hand through mussed hair and hoping he wasn't still too flushed. "No need," he said with a cocky smirk. "We're done." There was no point pretending that something more than hand holding hadn't been happening.

Phil blinked, trying not to stare, and finally nodded. "Good." He nodded pleasantly to Darien as the man stood, looking disheveled and mortified at the same time. He poured his coffee in utter silence. It was difficult focusing on work. It was more difficult ignoring how other people were managing to not focus on work. To put it mildly, he was jealous of the outlet. Phil couldn't help but glance back at Clint lounging against the counter all flushed skin and a satisfied smile. It was a good look on him. //Leering at coworkers because you haven't had a date in too damn long is not even tiniest bit professional,// he chided himself before holding up the full mug to indicate that he was done. "I'll get out of your hair. Also, Director Fury had a closed door with Captain Rogers. No word yet, but I'll keep you in the loop when I hear anything."

That immediately got Clint's attention. "Closed door?" he echoed, not daring to hope. It had to be a big deal if Fury wasn't letting anyone else in on it. Especially Stark and his thirty pound brain. "Did they figure out what Loki's after?" He knew better than to think it was about Natasha. Fury didn't exactly regard people as expendable, but Clint also knew that whatever world-ending plot Loki had up his sleeve would be more likely to warrant Fury pulling only Rogers into a meeting.

"I don't know," Phil answered earnestly. He was glad to see Clint perking up at the possibility of progress. He didn't like seeing the man down. Clint was too vital and too brash. Dimming that was a crime against the man's nature.

Darien felt a sense of relief as well even through the awkwardness of the situation. While the brief encounter the night before hadn't left him feeling one way or another about Natasha, he could tell easily how Clint felt about her. They didn't qualify as a couple, but he did care what Clint was going through. "Sounds like good news."

The agent nodded an affirmative. "It's at least news. In our line of work, information is power as much as anything. The more we know, the better our chances." He didn't bother to add that the more Loki knew, the less what they knew might matter. Time was of the essence, but it was passing at a snail's pace while they did more waiting than acting. None of them handled being benched well, not even Coulson. "I'm going to go linger obtrusively outside of Director Fury's office if you're interested."

"I just might, though I think that's more your bag. Still, anything to not go crazy sitting around, doing..." Clint trailed off, glancing meaningfully at Darien before going back to Phil. "Well, I guess I can't say 'nothing'." He caught the sound of footsteps approaching. Recognizing the sound of that particular gait, Clint raised an eyebrow. "May not need to stalk Fury after all. Sounds like someone has something to tell us."

Steve was actually relieved to find Clint there was well. He hesitated at Darien. "I don't think we've officially met." He held out a hand. "Steve Rogers."

Darien took his hand. "Darien Fawkes... and I think this is my cue to exit. Just let me know if you guys need a hand with anything." He gave Clint a meaningful look before retreating from the room with what was left of his dignity.

Though he'd felt bad at the idea of pushing the man out of a public space, Steve was visibly relieved to have Darien gone. "Tony had some files on Logan, stuff that went back to SHIELD's founding days. Turns out Logan moved an artifact back in the day, some hammer that's like an evil version of Thor's. He didn't know where, said somewhere cold... it's not a lot to go on," Steve admitted with a sigh. He leaned back against the counter with his arms crossed. "I was thinking maybe we shouldn't go this alone. Maybe we should reach out to the X-Men. They know the people we're going up against."

Phil nodded slowly. "There's something to be said for that, but the people we take orders from are barely alright with the team we have now. Adding Scott and Logan to the team has been... controversial would be a gentle way to put it. I'm not sure even Director Fury could get us cleared to contact Xavier for anything but information sharing."

Clint drew himself up a little. "Sounds like something I could help with. What do you say, Coulson? Think we can sneak out and find Logan's old team?" He was done with sitting on his ass. He was about ready to wade hip-deep through whatever goons Loki had gathered up and turn them into pincushions. Since no one knew where the bastard was, they'd have to settle for next best: gathering allies. He knew it'd piss Fury off, but it wouldn't be the first time he'd gotten yelled at. Hawkeye knew his value and just how much Fury would put up with him. He'd pushed it leaving Natasha alive when they first met, but he figured she'd paid that 'lapse' off in Fury's eyes already. //Time to borrow against my rep all over again.//

Coulson hesitated. He considered. He thought it through. Outwardly the introspection took only seconds and Coulson appeared calm the entire time, but inside there was a wild rush of input and interpretation. "I think we can manage that," he finally agreed before giving Steve a pointed look. "Not that we're going anywhere but out on a run to get some soda. Stocking the break room."

"Absolutely," Steve agreed, unable to keep from smiling. 

"You should keep an eye on Stark. We should get going." He smiled slyly at Clint. "I'll drive." All Clint had to do to dent a car was look at it. "Nobody touches Lola but me." He nodded to Steve. "I'll text you when we're on the way back." 

"Drive careful."

Coulson gave another nod before he led the way to the garage. Lola was shining, gassed up, and ready to go. He slid into the car and motioned for Clint to join him. "The sooner we get there, the sooner we can get back and finish getting our asses handed to us."

Unable to resist irritating Coulson, Clint placed a hand on the side of the car and vaulted in, a black duffel bag in his lap. The archer was more than graceful enough to execute the maneuver without even creasing the upholstery on the collectible car. "You act like it's my fault that half the things I drive or fly end up getting shot out from under me," he remarked, unzipping the bag as they eased out of the garage. "Don't figure Xavier'd be too impressed with me showing up in my gym clothes," he remarked, dragging a change of clothes from the bag. He looked directly at Coulson and quirked a faint grin. "You don't mind if I change in the car, do you?"

Coulson gave him a skeptical sideways stare but ultimately shook his head. "No, that's fine." If the kitchen had been slightly distracting, this would be a whole new level. Coulson sighed. He was beginning to hate being well adjusted. He half envied Natasha's ability compartmentalize. Clint naked next to him would take some serious compartmentalizing. And possibly selective blindness. Coulson shifted in his seat and stared straight ahead. "Get changed, then I'll start us off. No sense in you falling out naked on the highway."

Clint grinned impishly. "Well, it'd be the most hilarious incident report you ever had to write to Fury, at least," he pointed out, peeling off his hoodie and t-shirt before kicking off sneakers and shimmying out of his pants. He made no effort to preserve any sort of modesty as he worked; he had assumed that Coulson catching him fooling around in the kitchen had to have been more upsetting. Lean, wiry muscle flexed as he moved with practiced ease, taking only a couple of minutes to get suited up. Clint double-checked his bow and quiver before settling back in the seat and propping one booted foot on the dashboard. "Alright, let's go."

"Foot down if you want to keep it," Phil snapped automatically as he started the car. He was glad for the dim garage and almost hesitant to leave it. To say it had been awhile was an understatement, and catching glimpses of Clint's admittedly gorgeous body while he shimmied into his clothing had left Phil slightly hot under the collar. It was understandable, he told himself. Totally normal. He was a red-blooded man, and so was Clint. It just happened to be unfortunately obvious when the man was wearing nothing but his underwear. Phil glanced over. It was almost worse with Clint in uniform. Though it was hardly revealing, it left his arms bare, and it was sexy as hell. //And I have really, really got to get laid.//

Clint rolled his eyes a little but put his foot down, still smirking faintly. It felt good to be doing something. He was still worried as hell for Nat, but at least they were making some kind of progress. Or at least doing something useful. Oblivious to the effect he'd hand on Coulson, he relaxed in the seat, draping one arm out of the car and then reaching over to turn on the radio. He flipped through the channels until he got fed up trying to find something acceptable and turned it back off. "So... we there yet?"

Phil rolled his eyes but couldn't help a flash of fondness. He always enjoyed working with Clint and Natasha because there was an odd sort of synergy between them, each possessing something that the other lacked. Clint definitely had most of the energy. For someone who could sit, barely breathing, for hours while he waited for a target, Clint was a mass of fidgeting nerves most of the time. Phil reached out, popping open a panel on the dash, and pointed to a more up-to-date interface than the one displayed on Lola's otherwise vintage-looking radio. "There's a week's worth of music programmed in there. If you can't find something you enjoy, I despair of your taste."

Clint raised an eyebrow, amused and also surprised that he was being allowed to do anything but sit there with his hands in his lap. "You do realize I'm sorta the 'beer and t-shirts' type. Not overly worried about my taste," he pointed out, but poked at the impressively complicated radio nonetheless. Having a knack for gadgets, Clint managed to find what he was looking for in no time: some good 70s rock. "Nice speakers, too." Clint threw on his shades and tilted his head back, tapping his hand against the car door to the beat. "Thanks for letting me touch."

Phil smiled faintly at that. Clint wasn't one to show idle gratitude. If he thanked someone, he meant it. "Not a problem. I don't want you bored." Clint was always a handful, but bored he was downright dangerous. He glanced over at Clint and enjoyed the look of actual relaxation on his face. With Natasha's situation, he knew the mood would likely be transitory, but that didn't matter. It was something. "Outside a few brief phone exchanges with Charles Xavier, I'm afraid I don't have much of an in with any of the X-Men. Hopefully they'll still be willing to listen."

"I've heard some nutty stuff about what these people can do," Clint said, sobering a little. He had to remember that they weren't necessarily wandering into friendly territory. "I mean, not that our bunch doesn't already do some crazy stuff, but... I hear they have a guy made of metal. And not in the Tony Stark sense. Just not getting turned inside-out would be great. Then I'll worry about the being listened to part." He paused. "Maybe you should knock on the door, and I can cover you from a distance."

"After you got all pretty?" Coulson countered dryly. "We approach together, we enter together. We're trying to build good will, not ambush them. I want this to be as above board as we can make it." He knew that the X-Men might not be interested in helping. Engaging the Brotherhood when they attacked was one thing. Being part of an offensive to get an agent they weren't even affiliated with home and safe... well, Coulson could see keeping self preservation in mind. "If they tell us to drop dead, then we smile politely and leave. No arrows to the eyeball."

 

"I'm just worried they might just drop us," Clint responded, but he nodded, quietly rechecking his equipment. "We'll play your way. If half the stories I've heard are true, you and I aren't going to stand much of a chance if they decide we need to be shuffled off this mortal coil. I guess I could leave the toys in the car, huh?" As if to answer his own question, he put the stuff away and pushed the bag under the seat. He was silent for a moment before cutting his eyes at Coulson through his shades. "You think I'm pretty?" he asked teasingly, oblivious to how loaded a question it was.

"Only when you're not talking." The retort came quickly and easily, and for that Coulson was grateful. If he'd given himself a chance to think, to blush, to get flustered, Clint would have smelled the strangeness a mile away. It was better to play things as cool as possible. Phil was still trying to put as much as possible of his energy into not thinking about Natasha, and he tried to chalk his sudden obsession with leering at Clint to that. His brain needed distraction. Clint was an excellent distraction. Full stop. "So not often, but... you have your moments."

Clint chuckled, grateful for the distraction of someone to talk to that he trusted. Steve and Tony were obviously preoccupied, and Darien was a good fuck, but he wasn't a teammate. "Well, I could try and do the 'strong, silent type' thing more often, but I'd hate for people to think I'm just another pretty face."

"It would be a dangerous balance to strike," Coulson agreed in the same bland tone. The truth was that he wouldn't have changed Clint's attitude for the world even if the man could drive him up the wall at times. Stakeouts with Barton were an exercise in slow, painful torture, and yet he had often found himself looking forward to their missions together. They both had problems, but they also worked well together. "That's the downside of always wearing a suit. No one notices how nice you look because you always look fantastic."

"And humble, too," Clint remarked, though he had to smirk a little at the other man's confidence. And why the hell not? Phil might've been a suit, but he was sure as hell a good looking one. "But I guess the cellists dig that sort of manly asshole bravado, huh?" He hadn't stopped to think that Phil hadn't mentioned said musician in a long while.

Phil's jaw clenched momentarily, but no other outward sign betrayed how much it hurt to think about Audrey. "She doesn't know I'm alive." The smile that followed the words was bitter, not warm. "I'm not exaggerating. She literally doesn't know. It... she had moved even before the incident with Loki. After, she was at the funeral... she... she'd moved on. She had closure. Our shelf life as agents isn't great. There was no point in telling her just so that I could get myself killed all over again." By the time he finished speaking, Phil's hands were clenching the wheel tight even as he fought to keep his tone neutral.

Clint fell silent, looking at the floorboards and feeling like an ass. "Sorry," he said, glancing at Phil's hands, whiteknuckle on the steering wheel. Clint was bad at being comforting, he knew, but he still didn't like seeing Coulson upset. He pulled off his shades and fixed bright blue eyes on the other man. "I mean it. I can imagine that's pretty rough." He offered Phil a hopeful look. "Good-looking as you are, it won't be long before someone else comes along."

The words were enough to wrench a smile from Coulson. He knew Clint was attempting his own blunt-force way of being comforting. He might not mean it, but it was still nice to hear. Phil shook his head and smiled back at Clint, a genuine expression of gratitude for the attempt. "It's fine. I wanted her to be happy, and she is. Engaged, last I heard." By 'heard' he meant the last time he'd used SHIELD's resources to keep tabs on his former lover. "But thank you. It'll happen. Right time, right place, right person." He wasn't sure he believed it after so long, but it felt better to at least pretend than to admit defeat outright. Phil wasn't an optimist, but he wasn't a quitter either.

"It'll happen," Clint agreed. "And it's good of you, putting her before yourself." The archer fell silent, not quite sure what else to say. Fortunately they rolled up to a massive mansion a few minutes later. "Well. This looks expensive." He slowly got out of the car, looking the place over. "You think we just knock?"

Before Phil could answer, the door swung open of its own accord, and a striking redhead stood before them. The woman smiled warmly. "Forgive me for being a bit overly polite, but I saw you on the security feed when I was walking by. Agents Coulson and Barton?"

Coulson recovered quickly and nodded, offering the woman his hand. "Agent Phil Coulson of SHIELD, and this is Agent Clint Barton. I'm sorry for coming without notice, but the situation we're in is... delicate. Could we speak with you privately?"

"Of course. We can meet in the professor's office. I'm sure he'll want to hear what you have to say as well. I'm Jean Grey." 

Phil nodded. It wasn't news, of course. He'd briefed himself as much as possible on the X-Men when Logan and Scott stepped into their little corner of the universe. "It really is good to meet you in person. We spoke briefly on the phone..."

"When Scott was missing," she filled in, smile fading only marginally as she led the way down an oak-paneled hall. "It's alright. I'm glad he's found a place where he's happy." Jean opened the door to a large office at the end of the hallway. "Professor? We have visitors."

"Come in, please, gentlemen. Agent Coulson, it's excellent to put a face to the voice." Xavier's chair crossed over to them with a touch to a discreet button. He held his hand out to each man in turn. "Jean, would you close the door, please?" 

Phil knew it didn't take psychic abilities to pick up on the nervous energy in the room. "Professor, forgive us for-"

"Please, sit. There's no need for forgiveness. We are more often than not fighting the same battles. Tell me what you need."

Relieved to hear that Xavier was open to hearing what they had to say, Phil recounted briefly what had happened and how Natasha had been taken captive. "Loki knows more than we do. He has whatever Logan had, and that means we're already a few pages behind in this story. We can't afford to be. We're all on even ground when it comes to Loki and what to expect from him, but the X-Men know Magneto. You could help us come out of this with a lot fewer casualties if it gets ugly."

Hawkeye couldn't help but feel nervous in the presence of the two mutants. Unlike Coulson, he knew very little about them, but he knew that they were powerful. "You could help us understand why he'd work with Loki." Clint shrugged as all eyes fell on him. "Loki wants to enslave humans, and I don't think he sees much different between my kind of human and your kind of human."

"You don't really do PC, do you?" Jean asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"I just like to make sure I'm clear."

Xavier nodded, looking grim. Skimming a few of Clint's thoughts from the surface of the man's consciousness, he couldn't help but feel even more worried. The things Loki had done to Clint were troubling at best. "Erik wouldn't likely jump on board with this 'Loki' of yours unless he thought he could use him."

Clint shook his head. "He's in for a shock, sir. Loki's the type that'd convince you that you could, then turn the tables. He's really good at manipulating people just by talking."

Charles propped his chin in hand thoughtfully. "That is troublesome, then. You haven't actually seen Erik?"

"No. Just a couple of his goons. A blue woman, and a guy with metal claws. But they said they were with Magneto." Getting impatient with all the thinking and chatting going on, Clint pressed, "We need your help. At least, when the time comes. And any info on Lehnsherr's abilities and limitations you might have. And anyone who's working with him."

Xavier sat back in his wheelchair, looking slightly less friendly than a moment before. "The help, we'll gladly give. I'm not sure how I feel about turning over a dossier of a fellow mutants' capabilities to the government. You don't exactly have an outstanding reputation when it comes to dealing with mutants."

Having reached the limit of his diplomatic toolset, Clint gave Phil a desperate look.

Coulson sighed. Leave it to Clint to undo half the goodwill they'd engendered in the space of a few seconds. "It's not an unfair statement," he allowed, "but that doesn't change the fact that right now we're representing a lot more than just the government. We're representing a hope for humanity - all of humanity - to get Loki off of our collective backs. Logan got back safe. We found Scott. We're doing everything we can to show you that we're on your side, Professor."

//He isn't lying,// Jean commented silently to Xavier, her arms crossed over her chest, //but he isn't telling the whole truth either.//

//To be fair, my dear, I wouldn't expect him to.// The fact that no one had yet seen Erik was troubling. He could be working with Loki, or he could be somehow in the man's thrall. Through everything, the idea of him being taken from even himself was troubling. It struck at Xavier's core, and he reluctantly allowed, "I will share partial files. What I believe you need. If any of the X-Men want to assist you with future missions, they will have that opportunity. Jean and I will speak with the team. If anyone agrees to join you for the excursion, I will contact you immediately. Is that acceptable, Agent Coulson?"

Phil nodded gratefully. "More than. Thank you, Professor Xavier. We'll leave you be, and I appreciate your indulgence. This isn't an easy situation for any of us." 

They said their goodbyes and were led out by Jean. She hesitated when they reached the door. "Tell them... tell Scott and Logan that they're missed."

"I will, but I'm sure they know."

Jean sighed. "I hope so."

The door closed quietly, and Phil tried to look utterly at ease as he climbed back into the safety of Lola's driver's seat. "You're lucky you didn't get your mind melted," he commented as they started back toward home.

"Hey, I offered to wait outside in a tree," Clint pointed out as he hooked up his seatbelt. "You're the one that decided I should actually talk to people. Besides. Had my brain melted once. Starting feel like I can deal with it."

The memory sent a chill down Phil's spine. He still remembered Maria's voice as close to panicked as he'd ever heard it telling them that Barton had been compromised. "Maybe you can deal with it, but the rest of us don't want to. I'm not taking that call again." Trying to lighten the mood again, Coulson observed, "At least they're willing to help. It's more than we had before. It's not much, but it's more." With the files Xavier was sending, they'd have a better outline of what their enemies could do and thus how they could counter some of it. "Right now I'll settle for all of us getting out of this alive and sane... and having it go smoothly enough that Fury doesn't have us drawn and quartered for doing this."

"Fury probably won't care. The Council's gonna have their skivvies in a twist, though," Clint noted. "I'll just be glad when he'll let me have beer again." He sagged back in his seat, relaxing from the tension he hadn't noticed had crept up on him. It felt better to have made some sort of move in a useful direction. "So, what's the deal with those two back there? Xavier and Grey? What's their... mutant... thing?"

"Telepathy. Grey's got some mild telekinesis, Xavier's got some other, more expansive abilities that he keeps very much on the down low." Coulson glanced sideways at Clint, wondering if the agent would have been so brazen if he'd known what the pair could do. "The people in that mansion could tear the world apart if they chose to. It's a testament to the kind of people they are that they don't. They choose to help, to try to fight the fight the right way." It was hard not to respect Xavier even if Coulson thought he took his nonviolent principles too far at times.

"So, what you're telling me is, I shouldn't've been staring at her cleavage." When Coulson gave him 'the look', he held up his hands. "I'm kidding. And you're weirdly good at the 'dad' look. Just so you know." He sighed as he leaned back in his seat. "You know, I have to give you credit. Not many guys would walk up to gods and telepaths and talk to them like it was a completely normal thing."

"Maybe once you get killed by a god once, you're immune from being afraid for you own life." The truth was, Coulson definitely worried a lot more about the people around him than he did himself. The primary reason he regretted his confrontation with Loki was simply that he'd had so little impact on the overall situation. He hadn't saved anyone, he'd only been a poor distraction. "In this case, I trusted them not to kill us. Not necessarily to help us, but not to kill us." He paused. "And I am most definitely not your dad." Despite being old enough to be at least Natasha's father, the last thing Phil needed rattling around his mind was that particular concern paired with his earlier appreciation of Clint changing clothes right next to him. "I'm just someone who wants you to not let your mouth get you killed."

"That's weirdly touching, Coulson," Clint admitted, digging his shades out of his bag as the sun leveled off in his eyes. "Guess that means I'm lucky you're my handler, huh?" he asked, poking at the radio until he found some music he liked. "And don't worry, I won't ask for the keys to the car or anything."

 

"Good. I'd hate to have to kill you after all that bonding." Phil relaxed more the longer they drove. Even in times of stress, Lola had become something of a safe space. Being inside her and driving down the road felt very close to freedom. Normally he preferred alone time, but it was oddly comforting to have Clint slouched in the passenger seat. "Your taste in music isn't completely awful."

"I am disappointed by the lack of Brittany Spears," Clint deadpanned. He managed to hold out for a few seconds when Coulson looked at him like he'd just confessed to having a crush on Loki, then grinned a little. "Nope, can't do it. Can't even pretend that I'm serious." He sighed. "Well, no need for this anymore." He shucked off his glove and forearm guard, tossing them in his bag before unzipping his vest most of the way. "Cooler than some armor I've worn, but still too damn hot."

Coulson bit his tongue just in time to keep from saying anything he'd regret a few minutes later. "I'm sure Stark would be happy to come up with a new design made out of some bizarre compound he fashioned out of toilet paper and dental floss." The beauty of Stark, of course, was that he could do exactly that. The man was an ass, but he was an incredibly talented ass. "In the meantime, we'll just keep up the moratorium of playing any teen pop sensations who surfaced after, say, the 60s. When we get back, you should grab your boyfriend and pretend the two of you haven't left your room. If Fury's mad, I'll take the hit. He still owes me."

Clint raised an eyebrow. "You sure like shoving me toward Darien. Starting to think you like thinking of us tangled up together," he said, a look of amusement on his face. Clint couldn't resist the urge to push buttons. Coulson flustered looked a lot like Coulson any other time, but Clint had gotten to the point that, if he watched closely enough, he could detect the cracks in the agent's calm facade.

Coulson couldn't help it. He blushed faintly. The truth was actually something he wanted to talk about even less, but the image had still sprung unbidden into his mind. He found himself rather resenting Darien's presence in the mental picture. "I just want you to not take the heat for this, Barton. If you can alibi out with someone else do it, but Steve's a terrible liar, and since he saw the two of you together, he'd be able to blush and stammer enough to make that one sound true." There were a dozen new things a day that Coulson found out Captain America was good at: lying was not among them. The man couldn't have played a successful hand of poker if his life depended on it. "Or you can just have a private meeting and bitch session with the director and I. Up to you."

Clint hadn't missed the blush. He was oblivious to the real reason behind it, but he didn't hesitate to go in for the kill. "That's clever. I think I'll take the first option presented. Hot, sweaty, messy sex sounds a lot better than listening to Fury rant and rave. Could just be me, though," he allowed casually.

Phil breathed carefully in and out through his nose. He wasn't going to think about it. He wasn't going to picture it. He definitely was not going to- He forced his grip on the wheel to ease, shoulders remaining immobile, relaxed. "That sounds like a good plan," Phil managed to answer in a tone so cool it was almost icy. It actually sounded horrible because he wasn't going to be able to stop thinking about it, but there was no getting around that part. The tower loomed, and Phil pulled gratefully into the darkness of the garage. "Have fun."

 

Clint grabbed his bag from the car and slid out of the seat, not bothering to zip his vest back up. "Oh, I will," he said, a little disappointed he hadn't wrenched more of a reaction from Coulson. He walked casually back to his room without a glance back. Stepping through the door, he tossed the bag to one side, looking around. Someone was there. "Darien?"

 

There was a hiss of breath from the bed, then a pained whimper. The world hurt. The faint light through the open door hurt. Natasha shuddered and buried her face in the pillow. She wasn't sure how long she'd been lying there waiting for the pain to recede. She wasn't sure where she was. The voice... it sounded like Clint, but she couldn't trust that. Spots swam against her eyelids, and Natasha welcomed the coming darkness. Next time she woke up, maybe it wouldn't hurt anymore.

"NAT!" Darien forgotten, Clint practically dove to the woman's side. He ran a hand through her hair, then regained his senses enough to check for a pulse. It was there and going strong, but Natasha was obviously the worse for wear. Clint darted back to his bag and grabbed his comm. "This is Barton. I need a medic team in my suite," he barked shakily into the device as he lingered close to Nat. Kneeling by the bed, he slowly stroked her hair, so relieved that she was back he could barely think. 

 

The medical team swarmed in, taking Natasha, barely conscious, away with them. By the time they were heading to the medical ward, Coulson had heard and appeared to follow along with Clint. "Was she awake?" he asked, stepping quickly to try to keep up with the orderlies checking vitals and trying to get the woman to talk. Even as they walked, Clint texted Steve to let him know. Fury, of course, would have already heard. "Did she say anything?"

"She... she made some sounds when I first came in. She was out by the time I got across the room, though," Clint answered, numbly watching the orderlies work. He was trying to fight back panic. Surely Loki hadn't sent her back just to die. Surely she'd be okay.

Phil saw the look in Clint's eye and reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. The contact grounded him, and he hoped it helped Clint at least as much. "Natasha has survived things no one else could. Believe me, it'll take more than Loki to put her out of commission. If he couldn't kill me, do you really think there's any chance he could break her?"

One corner of Clint's mouth twitched upward in a weak impression of a smile. He appreciated the sentiment, even though his insides were all nerves and anxiety. "I swear, I'm gonna kill him this time. I don't know what it takes to kill one of those bastards, but I'm gonna find out," he growled, frustrated beyond words. It was bad enough, what Loki had done to him. What Loki had done to Phil and Nat was just too damn much.

Nat was just being wheeled off down the hall to a room of her own when Scott and Logan approached. "How's she doing?" Scott inquired. Logan had been a ball of nervous energy on the way up, so it seemed best to take point as much as he could.

Coulson gave a short shake of his head and was about to reply when one of the nurses stepped up to them. "We're going to look her over, but her vitals are stable. Her heartrate's a little fast but not dangerous right now. If the four of you wouldn't mind sitting down and waiting for awhile? As soon as she's up for visitors, we'll let you know."

"Thank you," Coulson glanced down at the woman's name tag, "Nancy." He felt better knowing that Natasha's life wasn't in immediate danger, but it made him no less terrified about what might have happened to her mind. "Clint said she was barely conscious when he found her, and she passed out not long after. Logan, any light you can shed?" He was the only other person who knew what it was like to have Loki walking around in his head in that way. Unfortunately Phil suspected that Natasha had been far less accommodating. 

Logan shook his head grimly. "Not much. She was fine last I saw her. He hadn't exactly threatened any injuries to her, either. Just said it'd be easier on her if she cooperated. Told us both that, actually." He paused, the faintest flicker of something else passing over his eyes before he added, "He did threaten to hurt 'er if I didn't cooperate. I wouldn't be surprised if he's played with her memories." It was a decent way to possibly cover his ass on what he'd done. 

Clint narrowed his eyes, stepping closer to Logan. His mind was sounding all kinds of alarms. "There's something wrong with you. Loki did something to you," he accused. "What'd Loki do to you?"

Logan pushed Clint back, smirking mockingly when the man knocked his hand away. "Nothin', kid. Just 'cause you got compromised don't mean we're all that easy."

"I had no choice!" Hawkeye growled, squaring up to Logan. The mutant was a good foot taller than him, and probably a few dozen pounds bigger, but Clint didn't have the sense to care. "Maybe you did. What'd he offer you? You sold her out, didn't you?"

There was a quiet 'snikt!' as Logan growled, "Kid, you're a little stressed out. I think you better calm down before you do somethin' stupid."

Despite the threat, Coulson stepped between the men immediately. He refrained from touching Logan but put a warning hand on Clint's chest. "Enough. Natasha is what we should be worrying about right now. I wanted information from Logan. That's all," he assured the archer. "What he knows doesn't help her right now." If there was more to the story, Coulson would find out, but he wouldn't do it at the expense of one of his agents. "Are you two going to play nice, or do I need to make you sit on opposite sides of the room?"

Even with the tension of the moment, Scott had to fight a smile. Coulson was apparently as used to breaking up juvenile arguments as he'd been with the X-Men. "I think we can all be civil." He wrapped a hand around Logan's tense bicep. "Let's sit down."

Clint glowered at Logan but stood down. "There's something off about him, Coulson. He's been compromised." The archer looked somewhere between scared and wishing he had his bow with him. //Not that it'd do much against that guy,// Clint realized.

"You're just seein' your own problems," Logan snapped, though he let Scott usher him to a seat. "I'm fine."

Coulson shot Logan a dark look as he and Scott moved to the other side of the room, immediately protective of Clint. He had to fight the urge to tell the man off. Instead he sat down next to Clint and sat as close as was seemly to the other man in the hope of calming him. "That may be. If he is, we'll know soon. Right now that's not the most important thing. This isn't about security, it's about Natasha." It was a little bit about both, but deep down Coulson knew which part meant more to Clint. 

Scott kept his hold on Logan not to hold him back - that wasn't even physically possible - but to maintain contact. "You're fine. I've been with you the whole time. You're you. Which means you're kind of a dick sometimes, but you're you." Scott looked down the hallway through the small window in the doors going back to the rooms and saw continual activity in and out of the room to which they'd taken Natasha. "He's just worried, and I can't blame him for that."

Logan settled back in his seat, grateful for the soothing contact. He didn't want to admit it, but the threat to Barton hadn't been idle. //We're all stressed,// he told himself. "Yeah. I get that. I'd be losin' my mind if it was you." //And we haven't exactly been together as long as they have.//

Clint sighed, trying to calm himself. "There was something in his eyes," he whispered nervously.

"I can hear you." Logan glared across the room, then cocked his head irritably at Barton when the man looked surprised. "Mutation? Remember?"

//So he can hear really well on top of the whole healing thing. I really need to start reading briefs.// Trying to salvage some of his pride, Clint focused his attention back on Coulson. "They need to hurry up and tell us something." It wasn't a rational expectation, but he couldn't quite suppress the thought.

Coulson let out a slow breath and nodded. "I know." He wanted to hear that Natasha was okay too. He also knew that Clint was rarely wrong when he was absolutely certain of something. If Clint was sure Logan was somehow hiding something? He was probably right. Medical wasn't the place to deal with it, though. 

Before the tension could mount further, a doctor appeared with a faint smile on his face. "Ms. Romanov is stable. Her vitals are all good. She's only waking up for a few moments at a time. It's best to keep visitors to a minimum. Mr. Barton, she was saying your name. If you'd like to come with me?"

The doctor barely had the question out before Clint was next to him. He followed closely and grabbed her hand as soon as it was in reach. One of the nurses was kind enough to drag up a stool for him, and he settled on it, never taking his eyes off the woman on the bed. "Nat?" he murmured, his heart in his throat. "Nat, it's me, Clint. Can you hear me?"

 

Natasha's eyes fluttered open, and she stared hard at the man. "Budapest," she whispered, swallowing hard before continuing, "tell me... tell me what happened." She needed to know that it was really Clint, and in the moment it made sense. Her head still aching, throat still dry, Nat needed to know that the man holding her hand was Clint and not some projection of him. "Something... please..." The words came out broken, whispers that sounded almost like sobs as her hand convulsively closed around his.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Phil watched Clint disappear with a frown. He would have preferred to go as well to take stock of Natasha's condition, but she needed to feel safe, and the doctors were trying to keep her from over-extending herself. He glanced over at Scott and Logan. "I won't apologize for him. We all know the situation here. I will say that if he's right and there is something you're keeping quiet about... trying to do that in a building full of spies and geniuses isn't a smart way to go. Coming clean's going to catch you a lot less hell than being forthright."

"He's seein' things," Logan refuted. SHIELD didn't have psychics, and there was nothing that could be proven. It was his word against Nat's, and she was obviously in a lot worse shape than him. "I haven't done anything to hurt SHIELD." It was halfway a truth. He hadn't done anything on purpose. He'd hoped that what he'd done was harmless.

"I never said you did," Phil answered mildly. "I just pointed out that if you're holding back, it's a bad idea. That's all." He crossed his arms and leaned back in the plastic seat as if it was perfectly comfortable. "We don't have the same kind of skills that Xavier had at his disposal, but it's still a bad idea to dismiss what we do have."

Scott found himself increasingly uncomfortable with the line of conversation, moreso because he had no idea how to reveal that he was back in fighting shape thanks to Loki. //How the hell do I tell anyone and not make Logan look guilty?// "I know we're both new here, but I hope you'll believe me when I say that Logan looks out for his team."

"The same team he was just willing to gut a member of?" Coulson waved it off before Scott could answer. "Barton has that effect on people. So does Stark for that matter. If we thought either one of you was dangerous, you wouldn't be here. Just remember we're on the same side, and keeping too many secrets tends to make things worse, not better."

"From what I hear, you need to give that speech to Fury," Logan countered. He indicated Clint and Nat with a tilt of his head. "And how about the wonder twins? Can't tell me that they've shared everything with you. Willin' to bet the stuff they're talkin' about right now is just between them." He shrugged. "Should listen to Scott. I'll take care o' my team." He squeezed the man's knee. "Even if we fight a little."

"Good. Then we're fine." Phil wasn't sure it was true, but he honest to god hoped it was. Logan was an asset, and Scott could be a huge help to them once he was settled in. They were both good allies to have. He paused and decided it was as good a time as any to let them know where he and Clint had gone. "Barton and I took a little drive, ended up in Westchester. Jean told me to let you know that you're missed."

Scott's hand twitched on the seat. It was the last thing he'd expected to hear. "You spoke to Jean?"

"And to Charles Xavier, yes. Unauthorized. Off the record to a point. They're willing to help with the Brotherhood if we need it. Xavier sent me some information about them. It's a start." He glanced down the hallway. "It's probably good that Nat came back or I'd already be in Fury's office getting yelled at."

Logan shifted uneasily at the mention of Jean, his eyes sliding to Scott. He knew it was irrational, but he couldn't help but wonder if such sentiments might convince Scott to return to the mansion. The prospect of Jean actually showing up and making Scott reconsider - directly or not - definitely had the feral mutant worried. "It'll be good to have some help," he said. "They... we... know them pretty well."

"I agree. Hopefully Director Fury will too." Phil was more comfortable with that idea as the moments passed. If Fury wanted to dress him down it would happen, but Phil had no illusions that the files he had passed on from Xavier had left the man anything but annoyed. Phil preferred annoyance to the team being at a disadvantage. "I'm sorry that there wasn't time to talk with the two of you first."

Scott appreciated the sentiment but shook his head. "This is your team. What you and Captain Rogers decide works is fine. It pissed me off when people," he cast a pointed glance at Logan, "tried to get in the way of me doing my job. I'll get used to not being in charge."

Logan waved the apology away. "Not sure I'd've wanted to go if you'd asked," he said. He hadn't exactly left on good terms. There'd definitely been a few 'you can't run from your past' lectures. A few pitiful looks from Rogue and Jean. A very pointedly angry look from Storm. That painfully disappointed stare from the Professor. "Yeah, not sure I'd be gettin' hugs and tears o' joy from everyone. But I'm glad you talked to 'em. And that they're doin' alright. Thanks."

"Of course." 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

"I thought we remembered that a bit differently," Clint replied, almost dizzy with pure relief to hear the woman's voice. Knowing she needed more than stupid jokes, though, he kissed her hand. "It was our first SHIELD mission together. We got pinned down when our contact turned rogue and blew out our comms. We were surrounded. We finally managed to quit arguing with each other long enough to get out alive. I had a sprained ankle, and you somehow managed to halfway carry my ass to the LZ for exfil," he recounted, hoping that the words could help calm her. He wanted to demand to know what had happened, but he knew it was more stress than the woman needed in the moment.

Natasha managed a flickering smile at the kiss, the words, the perfect mess that was the way Clint told stories. She nodded and breathed through the pain, knowing it wasn't physical. The doctors had said as much. It was in her head. All of it was in her head. The realization threatened to make her spiral off again, and Nat forcefully stopped it. "He was in my head. Loki. He wanted to know... something... I don't know what." She took a slower breath. "I think he found it."

"Don't worry about it," Clint said, stroking Natasha's hair. He wanted to kiss her, to pull her out of the bed and hold her until she felt better, no matter how long that took. Instead Clint placed himself as close to the bed as he could. "We'll get Loki. Right now, you just need to get better." Clint hated that she was in pain and wanted to take it away from her however he could. He was quiet for a moment. "I'm sorry that I didn't stop him from taking you."

Nat shook her head firmly. "Don't. Don't do that. Not your fault." She breathed through a wave of nausea. When her stomach settled, she asked, "Did Logan get back? Loki said... but I didn't exactly trust him."

Clint nodded. He didn't want to put more on the woman, but she seemed willing to talk about it at least superficially. "He's back. But... Nat, there's something off about him. It's almost like... like when Loki..." He trailed off and clenched his jaw. "Like when I was compromised. Something about him. I see it in him. He acts mostly normal, but there are these moments. I don't know him that well, but he threatened me. And not just with a fist in the mouth."

Nat frowned. Despite her pain, the idea of her team in danger was enough to make her want to climb out of bed. "You need to talk to Coulson. To Fury." Nat let go of his hand and tried to sit up only to crumple back down with her eyes squeezed shut. "Make them understand. And if you see... if you see it in me, I want you to do the same thing."

"I tried. I think Coulson might believe me, but..." But he hadn't exactly jumped at Clint's warning, which made the archer wonder how much credibility he had. //I did get brain-jacked by the craziest person to ever visit the planet...// It could just as easily be attributed to Loki's return combined with losing Nat. "I'll tell them." He gently cupped her face in his hand. "And you're fine. And you're gonna get better."

The words sounded true but they didn't feel that way. Nat squeezed her eyes shut and tried to feel nothing but Clint's touch. "I will,"she agreed before opening her eyes. "Go. Talk to Coulson alone. Make him believe you. Tell him that I said. We can't let Loki in here. He could tear us apart, and he will if he has a chance."

Clint didn't want to leave her. Not remotely. He also knew better than to think Nat would tolerate him babysitting her when he had something important to take care of. Anxiously, he squeezed her hand and kissed the back of it before he stood. "I'll be back later," he said before disappearing through the doors.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Coulson found himself wishing Clint would come out more with each passing second. He wanted to know how Nat was and how Clint was handling it.

Scott read the stress lines and offered, "I'm sure she'll be fine."

"She will... but unfortunately that doesn’t stop me worrying."

Scott chuckled. He could understand that well. "It's possible that I've been accused of being a worrier once or twice."

Logan snorted. "Understatement. I've seen moms with a half dozen kids worry less." His eyes narrowed, though, as he picked up strains of the conversation from the next room. He wondered if he'd be able to get any credibility over Clint and Natasha. It seemed to him that he should have a chance. Neither had exactly come out as well off from their encounters with Loki as Logan had. Deciding he'd worry about what happened with that later, he turned his attention back to the two in the room with him. "Seriously. His other mutant ability is hypertension."

Coulson chuckled. "There's plenty of ulcers to go around. You're in good company... and while I certainly don't want to speak for Captain Rogers, I'm sure we'd all love to make use of your skills when you're up to it."

Feeling the weight of the things he wasn't telling his new team, Scott nodded haltingly. "Let's get through everything with Loki, then we'll figure it out."

"I think we're all ready for it to be over." Phil found himself staring at the door and willing Clint to return.

As if in answer to Phil's wishes, Clint slipped through the doors, looking more relaxed if no less worried. "She's in pain, but she's not in any danger," he said, then tilted his head at Coulson. "We need to talk." His gaze flicked to Logan. "Alone."

Logan knew it would be more suspicious to argue against that request than to quietly allow it. He glanced warily at Scott. If they were thrown off the team, it was no big deal. But Logan had a feeling that a simple ousting wasn't exactly SHIELD's style.

"Right." Coulson gave a nod of acknowledgement to Logan and Scott before falling into step beside Clint. "Is she really okay?" He knew Clint had other things on his mind, but first and foremost was Natasha's health and safety. Before the archer had a chance to answer, Coulson's phone buzzed. He lifted it to his ear and wasn't surprised to hear Fury's terse voice on the other end of the line. "Of course, sir. Yes. He's with me. Of course." Coulson winced as he put the phone away. "Fury wants to see us." 

Scott watched the men leave with a knot his stomach. "Maybe we should just tell them... whatever you know, and... about what I can do. Keeping secrets isn't going to help." And that was even if keeping those secrets was in the slightest bit effective. Scott somehow doubted it would be. SHIELD kept too close an eye on the world for something in their own compound to stay out of sight for long. "I'm not sure we're doing the right thing here. Having the whole picture might make the difference in knowing how to deal with Loki."

Logan shook his head. "They got enough of a picture," Logan decided, pushing himself to his feet. "When they figure it out... If they do, then we can talk with 'em. Otherwise, they can stay outta our business." Logan was starting to get irritated with the whole situation. While he hadn't exactly expected SHIELD to give him all their secrets, he couldn't help but feel that Fury's cloak and dagger routine was a little counterintuitive when it came to holding a team together.

Scott rose, but he didn't agree with the sentiment at all. They were playing a dangerous game, and he didn't see any way it could come out well. "And what happens if they do? Do you really think talking's going to be enough by then?" He caught the dirty look one of the nurses was giving him and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Let's get out of here, go back to your room." Reasoning with Logan wasn't possible most of the time. Scott was beginning to remember vividly that Jean wasn't the only reason they'd nearly killed one another a few times.

Logan noticed the nurse as well and couldn't help wonder if she was actually another agent or spy or... "Yeah, I think that'd be best," he agreed, leading the way. It was a short, tense walk. The minute they stepped into the room, Logan shook his head. "Scott, I know you're used to doin' everything above-board, but this place... These people are spies. This ain't Chuck's school. They're government, and don't forget that the government's been within a few steps o' roundin' us all up and puttin' us in concentration camps."

Logan had a point on that score, but Scott still didn't feel right about it. Clint was a bit of a wild card, but Coulson seemed like a decent guy. Fury was a whole other story, but... Reluctantly, Scott nodded tersely. "I understand what you're saying. I do." His expression slowly faded into a smile. "I just have a gut feeling that we're doing this the wrong way." Given that they'd already done it the wrong way, had already hid things - how much, even Scott wasn't sure - he also didn't know whether they could fix it or not. "If I'm going to be part of the team here, I want to be part of it. I don't want to stand off to the side and only jump in when things are bad. If I wanted that, I would have stayed at Xavier's."

"We'll figure it out," Logan assured, pulling Scott close for a quick kiss. "Just, right now, I don't think it's a great idea to tell 'em how you got your powers under control. Considerin' Loki managed to hijack Barton's brain at one time, I don't think they'd like the idea that he's been rummaging around in yours. And Barton's already got it in his head that Loki's callin' the shots on me."

As much as he didn't want to say it, Scott forced himself to proceed. "What if he’s right? What if it's so small that neither one of us sees it?" Logan had, one way or another and for one reason or another, let the god into his mind. That could mean absolutely nothing, or it could mean a whole lot of bad things. He put a hand on the man's chest in a gesture he hoped might placate Logan. "And if Loki is in your head or mine, how the hell would you even know if he didn't want you to? I'm not saying I think we should do anything - you seem like you to me - but I don't want to dismiss it either. If these people are your team, maybe you should trust them a little."

"I'm fine!" Logan's eyes flashed with anger - and something else - and he grabbed Scott's wrist, straightening to his full height and glaring into the man's blue eyes. His senses caught up to him a second later, and he let go of his lover with a shaky sigh. "I'm fine, Scott. Just... this whole thing is wearin' a little thin. They barely trusted me when I got here, and now they think I'm gonna try 'n' blow 'em up like Barton did. Might as well give 'em a reason to look at me like I'm a time bomb," he decided, unwilling to budge.

For the first time, Scott felt he'd seen a flash of what Barton was talking about, and the thought of it made his blood run cold. Logan on a good day was dangerous. Logan out of control could mean a whole lot of bodies. He rubbed his wrist and broke eye contact, not sure how much he trusted himself to speak. "Did I act any differently when I was in charge? No matter how pissed off you might've been, I don't think you would have made another call. I don't think you really would here either. If you thought your people were in danger, you'd do what it took to protect them. That's all this is. It would be stupid not to ask questions." //And I've been pretty willfully stupid the past couple days…//

"Yeah. Guess so," Logan said, though his voice still sounded tense. "If they get the nerve to actually ask a question, instead o' makin' hints at me, maybe we'll talk." Nevermind that Coulson had been pretty direct. Logan stalked over to the fridge and dug out a beer. He glanced back at Scott, looking suddenly more relaxed, more casual. "Somethin' to drink?"

Scott swallowed and nodded. "I could use it, yeah," he agreed. The man looking at him was Logan, was the Logan he was slowly coming to know on a far more intimate level than he'd ever expected. The idea that he could lose that man as fast as he'd found him was terrifying. Scott found himself hoping that Agent Barton was wrong and worrying even more that he was right.

Logan grabbed a second beer and passed it to Scott, then settled at the small dining table with his own. He watched his lover closely, seeing the worry in the man's eyes. The moment before was already fading strangely from Logan's memory. He held out a hand to Scott. "C'mere," he said, offering the man a gentle smile. "You look good, y'know. Without the shades."

Scott let himself relax marginally. "Feels good without them. Well, and weird. A lot weird, really, because it feels normal. I'm not used to normal." He inclined his head. "I guess neither one of us are." It was, Scott realized, entirely possible that they were hitting snags less because Logan was compromised and more because they were experiencing growing pains trying to figure out their new life. "I was thinking maybe I should start spending some time in my own room. No, hey, before you look offended... going from barely talking to dating and shacking up is too much for anybody. I needed it, don't get me wrong, but I don't... I don't want to break this because we're both holding on too tight."

Logan frowned. He didn't like the idea much, but he wasn't going to argue. "Clingy" would never be an adjective used to describe him. "That's fine, if you need space," he allowed reluctantly. He took a swig of beer, looking thoughtful, then gave Scott a concerned look. "You gonna be okay, sleepin' alone?"

Scott considered that. He felt uneasy at the idea, but he knew he wasn't going to become self sufficient letting himself constantly rely on Logan even if it was only for emotional protection. "Yeah. Probably. And, look, if I'm not, you're not planning on changing rooms the second I leave, right? I can find you. I can get help from you if I need it." He offered a tentative smile. "Right?"

Logan nodded without hesitation. "'Course you can," he said then quirked a suggestive smile. "I'll help you anytime you need it. I'll be here."

It was the answer he'd expected, and somehow that made Scott feel better. He still knew Logan. The feral mutant was still the ultimately trustworthy man who'd brought Rogue safely to Xavier's school without laying a hand on her and who had risked his life for the team more times than Scott could count. He let out a slow breath. Scott reached for Logan's hand with his free one and threaded their fingers together. "Good. And, y'know, if you happened to show up and crawl in bed with me too every now and then, I probably wouldn't mind."

Logan gave Scott's hand a gentle squeeze, pressing his lips to the man's knuckles. "I can do that. Well... I will do that," he assured, standing and pulling Scott into a quick kiss. "I'm all about givin' you some space, but it don't mean I'm gonna give you breathin' room," he joked, giving Scott a quick wink. It felt good, having the man to himself, having time to himself. He didn't want to miss a second of it, but he knew that Scott was right. Livin' in each other's back pockets ain't good for anyone. "Promise me, though, that you'll call me in if you need anything. At all." He couldn't help feeling protective of Scott, especially considering Loki's visitation. The idea that the god might decide to drop in again gave Logan chills.

"Or, better yet, I'll come over here and find you directly." Scott let his arms slide up around Logan's neck and tried to assure himself that they were okay. There was nothing to worry about. Logan was himself. He held fast to that idea and kissed Logan again as if to seal the internal pact. "And no one said conjugal visits are off the menu either. If you're interested at some point." Scott paused. "You're still a terrible influence, though. I'm supposed to be doing some kind of computer training to get all my security access with SHIELD set up."

Logan grabbed Scott's ass and pulled their hips together suggestively before kissing him and letting go. "Then go watch your boring computer training so it can be over sooner and I can fuck your brains out without feeling guilty or somethin'," Logan directed, grinning. "Besides, last I heard, there were parts o' you that needed a rest."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

They walked in silence to Director Fury's office and found the man in an ill temper. "They're lying to us." 

Coulson blinked. It wasn't the response he'd expected to their arrival. "Sir?"

Fury turned his monitor to face them and played a video showing Scott and Logan in one of the secure rooms on the lower levels. "That paperwork from Xavier? That says that without the visor, this shouldn't be possible."

"That... that's what I understood as well, Sir," Coulson managed. The idea of Logan lying to them was one thing, but Coulson hadn't honestly expected Summers to be an issue. On the contrary, he'd hoped the man might help them to keep an eye on his former teammate.

Hawkeye stared darkly at the monitor, the muscles in his jaw working as his hands balled into fists.

Fury watched Clint for a moment, then raised an eyebrow. "Barton...?"

"Sir, I'll go get my gear." Clint was halfway to the door before Fury's voice staid him.

"Barton, what, exactly, do you think you're going to do against the two of them?" the Director wanted to know. He jerked a thumb to the looped video of Scott using his powers. "One of them could kill you, nevermind both."

"Sir, I've survived aliens-" Clint was still leaning toward the door.

"I am not losing more assets today," Fury snapped. "Get your ass back over here." His gaze shifted to Coulson as Clint grudgingly complied. "Agent Coulson, you've interacted with these two the most. I need recommendations. How do we confront these two without them going through half of our security forces?"

Clint spoke up before Phil had a chance. "Sir, Logan's already offered to gut me. I think - "

"Barton, you're obviously not thinking. And if you can't keep it together for all of this, I'm putting you on the bench until we get Loki sorted. Is that understood?"

Clint drew himself up straight and nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good." Fury looked back to Coulson. "You were about to say, Agent?"

Coulson frowned at the image on the screen and finally spoke, "I don't think their intentions are to hurt the team. Unfortunately intentions don't always mean anything. Summers is a standup guy by all accounts. He's a by the rules type." Of course, so was Steve, but the man was willing to bend the rules if it meant keeping his people safe. For Summers, that meant protecting Logan. "If Logan's been compromised, we may not know how until it's too late. As you said, if we jump the gun and start a fight, we're hurting ourselves, and we're ruining a chance of alliance likely not only with Logan and Summers but with the X-Men. If we're up against the Brotherhood, that's not a sound strategy." He looked over at Clint, feeling bad for suggesting inaction when the man was itching to deal with the potential threat. "We need to wait. If we confront them at all, it needs to be private. A meeting, not an arrest. If Logan's holding back or Summers is, give them a chance to come clean on the record."

Fury nodded. "I'll trust your opinion." Noting that Barton looked ready to pipe up again, Fury pointed at him. "You spotted the issue first. You're in charge of keeping an eye on him. You see any cracks, any craziness, any weird blue eyes, you let me know. Or just kill him right there."

Clint nodded. He still remembered Fury shooting at him. To kill. He couldn't blame the Director. He'd have done the same, had their positions been switched. "I'll watch him, sir, but I'm already seeing signs-"

"Right now, he's not hurting anyone or anything. I'm not going to put a man in a prison cell for what he might do when he’s been asset to the team otherwise."

Clint subsided. He knew that arguing wasn't going to get anything done.

Fury looked back at Coulson. "If you can, pull Summers aside and see what you can get from him. Discreetly."

"I will," the agent agreed. As much as he wanted there to be nothing wrong, Coulson wasn't stupid, and he wouldn't risk anyone's lives if it came down to it. If Clint had to act, then he had to act. "If there really is something wrong and he knows, I think he'd tell us." Coulson certainly hoped so, or the bridges they'd been building with both men were for nothing. 

Fury nodded in return and let his posture and expression soften somewhat. He looked to Clint not with accusation but with curiosity. "You visited Agent Romanov?"

Clint relaxed a little, too, and nodded, worry creasing his brow. "She's... awake. Coherent. But... She's afraid she's been compromised. She seems alright to me, but... she's in a lot of pain, and the docs say there's nothing physically wrong with her." He was terrified when he thought that they might not be able to undo whatever Loki had done. Nat had obviously been in a lot of pain.

Fury nodded, settling back in his chair thoughtfully. "We'll take care of her. Don't worry."

Sensing that Fury was done with them, Clint turned and left, though he waited until Phil caught up with him. "So how're you going to do it? Get hold of Scott without Logan noticing?"

"Without Logan noticing? Probably never," Coulson returned. "Without him being able to stop me?" The man smiled over at Clint. "The truth is that I think Summers is on our side as much as he can be. He's sympathetic, at least. That's useful to us. If he really wants to keep the team safe, he's going to be willing to help us, or at least not willing to actively do any of us harm. He won't want Logan to either."

"It freaks me out a little when you smile like that," Clint said, though he had a small smile of his own to offer in return. In truth, Coulson's ability to manage people and find information was astonishing to Clint. The guy could find anything that could be found. Coulson had a way of getting info from people that rivaled Nat's, though his methods were usually more straightforward. "You don't have any mutant powers of your own, do you?"

"None that I'm willing to go on record about," Coulson answered enigmatically. He half wished he did have a mutation or two. It would have made the grunt work he took on a lot easier, but Coulson was happy to do it. There were flashier ways to live. He relished the knowledge that he kept the machine running even if it felt like a chore some days. "I'd offer to be your bartender for the evening again, but now that we're supposed to keep an eye on the Logan situation, I think that would be even more ill advised than it would have been before. Besides, Nat might be feeling better before you know it."

Clint raised an eyebrow, then nodded and sighed. "Yeah, yeah. Living in Fury's dry zone. I notice he never cuts Tony Stark off," the archer pouted. "So, since Logan might suspect something if I show up and hang out in his suite, any ideas how we're gonna watch him?"

"That's the easy part. Just remember that we're going to be seeing things that we can never unsee." Coulson led the way to his own room, a modest but comfortable suite that looked like an odd cross between a library and the room of a twelve year old boy. There were framed posters mixed with leather bound volumes of Shakespeare, but Coulson walked past it all to a study filled with file cabinets, a sleek computer, and a collection of monitors. It took a few keystrokes to bring one of the monitors to life, and they were looking into Logan's suite. "Just don't say I didn't warn you. Anyone who's ever had to watch Stark for any length of time has had to get therapy."

Clint's gaze swept over the equipment, and he suddenly felt very uneasy. "So, uh... you can see any of us you want?" he asked. It was starting to become clear why it was so hard to get Coulson flustered. It was also alarmingly clear that there was a real chance Coulson had a really graphic idea of what Clint's personal life looked like. The archer cleared his throat uneasily. "H-have you ever... uh, watched me?"

Expression carefully neutral, Phil nodded. "Everyone's been under surveillance at one time or another." He hesitated before adding, "I requested that I be the only agent to watch you and Agent Romanov. After what happened with Loki, if something was going to be wrong, we've been working together for a long time. I would have seen it." He had been worried about the duty in a way, had almost handed it off to someone else. If anything had been wrong with Clint or there had been any lingering effects, Coulson wasn't sure he could have turned him in anyway. In that way he sympathized with how Scott had to feel sorting through any potential danger from Logan. "My reports were thorough in the ways that they needed to be." Phil smiled faintly. "SHIELD doesn't need to know everything."

"Thanks," Clint said earnestly. He couldn't blame them. At all. If he'd been in Fury's shoes, in fact, Clint wasn't sure he'd even be roaming freely yet. "Glad it was you," he said, then felt himself blush. "I mean... I trust you. Still..." he took a deep breath, "pretty awkward, and it'll be awhile before I can make eye contact again, but... rather it was you than Hill or someone I barely know." He watched the monitor closely. It also felt pretty damn awkward snooping on Logan and Scott. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted the level of detail he had a feeling he was going to get.

Coulson watched Clint carefully for a moment before dropping his gaze back to the monitors. "I can handle this if you're not comfortable with it." Frankly he wasn't comfortable himself. It was a strange thing, an invasive thing, but one he knew was necessary from time to time. "I can call you in if you're needed to deal with any complications or I have the opportunity to address Mr. Summers by himself." Coulson certainly preferred to have Clint available at short notice in the event that the meeting happened. He didn't want to get jumped by an angry Wolverine halfway through. It was harder to have a civil conversation without a spleen.

Clint shrugged. "I can crash on your couch - Wait." Something had caught his eye on the monitor already. "How do you rewind it?" he demanded, waiting until Coulson did so and having him stop at a key point. "Look at that. The arm grab, the look on his face," he said, pointing to Logan. "Run it forward a little. There... see? Completely different body language. Like nothing happened." He glanced at Phil. "It's not proof, but I think we've got reason to keep watching." He moved to the overstuffed leather sofa nearby. "You play creeping Tom; I'll make sure this couch stays secure." He yawned. It was getting close to three days with no real sleep to show for it. Clint knew that he couldn't hold out much longer without at least a nap.

Coulson agreed with the assessment. Something was off about Logan, and if the look on Scott's face was any indication, he knew it whether he wanted to or not. The thought made him frown, but he found himself smiling again when he looked over at the couch. Clint had never hesitated to use his office as a waystation. It happened organically over time. At some point, Coulson's office had simply become Clint's second bedroom. Apparently the theory applied to his suite as well. Not that he minded. Coulson actually felt a jolt at how little he minded and snapped his gaze back to the screens. The intimacy of the moment being shared onscreen wasn't lost on him, and he sighed softly. It was never good to feel something going off the rails when the collateral damage was spread out right in front of him before it even happened.

Clint flopped back into the cushy couch and sighed. He could tell that the second he stopped moving he was going to pass out. He grabbed a throw pillow and started to lay down, then grunted. With Nat and everything else that had gone down, he still hadn't had a chance to put on civilian clothes. "One day, I'll get to wear real people stuff again," he grumbled, unzipping his best and tossing it to the floor with a solid "thud." The archer stretched and yawned, relaxing into the cushions and falling asleep almost the second his eyes were closed.

It was honestly hard not to watch Clint sleep. He looked ridiculously calm and innocent for someone who did the things that he did. He looked peaceful. He looked gorgeous. Coulson cleared his throat and forced himself to focus on the issue at hand. Soon enough he was lost in watching for cues and body language. "Barton," he barked, never doubting for a moment that Clint would wake at once. "I'm on my way to Summers' room. You're with me. Back far enough that he doesn't know you're there and close enough that I do." He tossed Clint an earpiece. "I'm wired, so keep an ear out. If I need you, it should be pretty obvious." 

Clint nodded, tugging on his vest and checking his weapons. He sincerely hoped they wouldn't be needed, because he was pretty sure that if Summers decided to fight, Phil would die and Clint wouldn't be far behind.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Scott sighed at a knock on the door. The training was boring enough without losing his train of thought. "Jesus, Logan, I figured it would be at least- Oh, Agent Coulson. Sorry. Please, come in."

Coulson accepted the offer with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry for interrupting, but I was hoping we could speak."

Tensing at once, Scott guessed, "About Logan?"

"About Logan."

"I really don't-"

"You do. Forgive me, Mr. Summers, but you do. If Agent Barton picked up on changes, then you have. There's no way around that. You led the man, you've known him for years, and you've seen it."

It was on the tip of Scott's tongue to lie, but he honestly couldn't think of a lie that made as much sense as the truth. "I don't know if he's really been... 'compromised', you call it? I don't know if it's that serious. There's something eating at him, but that's Logan. That's how he is. If whatever was in those files triggered some bad memories-"

Coulson reached out and grabbed for Scott's wrist, watching him flinch at the touch. He pushed the sleeve up and arched an eyebrow at the darkening bruises. "Logan would normally do this?" he asked quietly. It didn't take a verbal answer to know what Scott was thinking as he let go again. "You aren't in this alone, and we aren't looking for a reason to give Logan trouble. Agent Barton was compromised, but there aren't many people alive that I trust more. This isn't all or nothing. It just means we have things to watch for."

Clint listened intently, relaxed but alert. The archer straightened a little and focused more, though, when Coulson mentioned him. He'd known from the get-go that Coulson was one of the few agents who didn't still look at him a little suspiciously every time they saw him roaming free with full access to his weapons and mission files. ?With Loki back in the picture, the subtle sideways glances had become wary stares. Coulson was a lot of things: polite, soft-spoken, diplomatic, but he wasn't a liar. Clint knew when the man said he trusted the archer, Coulson meant it.

Clint's reverie was broken, when he heard the door two suites down open. He backed down the hallway as stealthily as possible and dropped his voice to the lowest whisper he could and still expect to be heard. "Coulson, I think you're about to have company," he hissed into his earpiece, watching nervously as Logan slowly stepped out of his suite.

Internally, Coulson cursed that Logan wasn't more relaxed and couldn't let Scott be for five minutes. Outwardly, he offered the man a sympathetic smile. "You don't have to do anything. We aren't going to. I just want you to be open to the possibility that something is off and be on alert. You're going to spot the holes before anyone else. Don't let yourself be blind to it. Don't explain it away. If you need help, ask for it. I'm not looking to take sides or create friction with you two, but I don't want someone getting hurt because we let it slide."

Scott wanted to debate the issue, but, jaw tight, he nodded instead. At the sound of the door, he tensed but found Coulson taking his hand again and managed to look only slightly startled.

"Thank you, Mr. Summers. I think it's fair to say you can skip the rest of the preliminary courses. Xavier's had systems like a lot of ours. Just brush up on the specifics. If nothing else, it would be nice to have another pilot to sub in as needed."

"Can do." Scott looked over Coulson's shoulder to offer Logan a smile and an arched eyebrow. "I'm feeling pretty popular right about now."

Logan growled faintly, glaring at Coulson. "Thought I smelled suits." He flicked his eyes back to Scott, the same unsettling edge in his gaze as before. "His buddy's down the hallway." Back to Coulson. "Expect him to put up a fight over his clearances, or didja have somethin' else you needed to talk about?" he asked, pointedly staying between the agent and the door.

Clint could hear the exchange. His cover blown, he closed on the door to Scott's room immediately. He knew if he said anything into his mic, Logan would likely hear it. He hoped Coulson would realize the archer had his back if it hit the fan.

"I called him," Scott answered with a roll of his eyes. "I didn't ever exactly have to do the tenure track at Xavier's." It was an easy lie to sell simply because it was, in part, true. Proving himself to SHIELD was strange when he'd been so used to being accepted outright at the school. "I was kind of hoping to skip a grade or two."

"And he will be. Mr. Summers is a valuable asset, and if we can keep him here by cutting down a little coursework..." Coulson shrugged casually and met Logan's gaze. "We were able to work with you to that end. I thought offering Mr. Summers the same courtesy was the least we could do."

Logan looked skeptical, but nodded slowly. "So, then, what's with the accessory?" When he didn't immediately get an answer, the feral mutant gestured to the door. "Your pet archer. Is he here to help with the coursework, too? Or just stickin' around to find evidence o' me havin' the same kinda crazy he did?"

Outside the door, Clint clenched his jaw, drawing his bow. He didn't like the tone in Logan's voice. The cadence was just the same as when the mutant had threatened Clint earlier.

"That's exactly what he's doing," Coulson agreed. “Given our earlier exchange, I thought you might not like me being here. I feel safer with back up." Phil looked down at himself and then back up at Logan. "Training aside, I tend to think it might not be precisely a fair fight if it came to that." He spread his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm finished here. If you don't mind, I'll get back to my work, and you and Mr. Summers can relax."

Logan opened his mouth as if to answer, then subsided. He glanced at Scott. He knew there was something more than what he was being told. Barton's presence made that much obvious. "You oughta know that archer buddy wouldn't have any better chance o' stoppin' me than you would," he growled, then moved toward the door. He gave Scott a quick glance. "I'll get back to you on dinner. Not feelin' real hungry right now."

Out in the hallway, Clint took a step back as the door opened, giving him enough room to fire if he needed to. He nimbly dodged when Logan tried to shove him. "Don't push it, hairball." In spite of himself, Clint flinched slightly at the metal rasp of Logan's claws being bared. He knew he ultimately didn't stand a chance against the feral mutant. Not at this range.

Logan retracted his claws, looking amused. "Remember that," he warned before heading back to his room.

Scott didn't like pissing people off. Battles of wills and sparring matches were one thing. Logan looking at him like he was the enemy was something else, something he'd seen too often at the end of his time with Jean. He didn't want to screw things up and lose the man, but he was starting to worry that he already had.


	14. Bed Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony should be rest, Steve should probably be saying no, and they're both failing miserably

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff and smut. Tony and Steve earned some. Especially given what's coming down the road... trust me.

No sooner had Steve gotten Tony tucked into his own bed than his phone chimed. He brought it up and felt his knees practically buckle with sudden relief. "Natasha's back. Clint came back and she was in his bed. No word on her status yet." If she'd been okay, she wouldn't have been in bed, she would have probably been in the briefing room sketching out ways she intended to kill Loki for keeping her locked up. Steve tried to focus on the good part of their good news. "If you're up to it, maybe we can grab a wheelchair and go and see her when they're sure she's doing okay."

"That's a good idea. Though I think the wheelchair's a bit much," Tony groused. He knew that it really wasn't. Creed had managed to mangle a fair amount of his abdominal wall, and walking around was probably not the best idea.

"I'm sure I'm overreacting," Steve agreed in a placid tone that said quite clearly that he meant nothing of the sort. If they left the room, Tony would be leaving it in a wheelchair. He stared at the screen as if information would come immediately instead of when it damn well pleased. "I just hope she's okay." He still remembered how after their first battle against Loki, Clint had been withdrawn for what felt like forever. He had felt responsible for everything he did while Loki was pulling the strings. Steve's hand clenched on the phone, willing it to flash a new message.

"You can't squeeze a text out of it. Technology doesn't work that way," Tony pointed out. When he got a dirty look, he shrugged. "Look, I wanna know what's going on, too, but brutalizing your phone isn't going to make that happen, soooo..." He patted the bed beside him. "You could come sit over here. Lemme smell your aftershave." Tony couldn't bring himself to use the world 'cuddle,' but that was definitely what he was craving.

Steve smiled at the invitation. He set the phone carefully on the nightstand, well within reach, and slid into bed next to Tony, even pulling the covers over himself just to share more space with the man. Almost at once he felt more content and less stressed out despite his worry for Natasha. "This is perfect," he sighed, gingerly embracing Tony. "And you're more of a sap than you let on. You like this. You like cuddling me," Steve teased as he kissed Tony's dark, mussed hair.

Not one to be accused of being sentimental, Tony diverted, "Who wouldn't wanna be pressed against all this?" he asked, laying a hand on Steve's well-muscled chest for emphasis. In spite of the bravado, though, Tony sighed contentedly and turned towards his lover, nuzzling his head against the man's chest. It felt good. Safe. "This is more like it. They need to make bigger hospital beds so this can be a thing."

"It would be more therapeutic," Steve agreed. He held onto Tony as tightly as he dared. After days of having the man in the hospital and not being able to really be wrapped up with him, it was heaven. Even with his worry over Natasha, even with Loki possibly on his way to a dangerous artifact, Steve felt blissful. He closed his eyes and sighed out a breath. "You're right - this is definitely more like it. I really didn't like sleeping without you."

Tony smiled at that. "Missed you, too." He knew he should be worried. Or stressed. Or running around trying to figure out something to fix their current problem. But it was too comfortable, too right to be laying there curled up with Steve. It was odd, feeling so secure, so comfortable with someone. Especially someone he'd very nearly come to blows with more than once.

Steve wanted to say a lot of things in that moment. He wanted to throw around words like "love," but he knew it was too soon. When he did do that, he wanted Tony to be stone cold sober - as much as normal, at least - and not hyped up on heavy medication. There would be other days. Better times. He hoped there would be anyway. Steve smiled just the same. "Pretty soon you're going to be used to this. I'll be talking you out to fancy dinners, flowers... we'll be going out dancing."

At those words, Tony drew back a little, scrutinizing Steve for a moment before he slowly smiled. "Gonna hold you to that," he finally decided, leaning up for a kiss. "Not sure how good I am at the whole romantic dancing thing. I mostly just do the kind that your mother would've warned you about had she seen it coming."

Steve smirked. "Luckily for you, I like both kinds." Mostly he found that he just liked spending time with Tony. "I really am gonna take you out, though. Proper date night. Just as soon as the world's not ending. Maybe we can even take a few days off, go to the beach or something..." The idea of Tony all to himself, just the two of them off in some tropical locale, was fantastic. "Every now and then, I'd like the chance to not share you with anything or anybody."

"Well, uhm, I think we might be stuck with the suit now," Tony reminded Steve. "But since I get to say when it makes an appearance, I think we can still keep this exclusive. Fiji's nice. Or I could buy an island. Which one would you like?" he asked, dead serious. As he talked, Tony ran his hand over Steve's abs, dipping it teasingly low before moving it to much more innocent territory. He knew Steve would have nothing serious for the moment, but it didn't hurt to remind the blonde of more intimate play.

Steve smiled at the touch and chuckled low at the suggestion of buying an island just for vacation purposes. "I think maybe we should be together for a little longer before we buy an island." As much as he hoped and prayed there was a future for the two of them, Steve didn't want to put too much pressure on them. He knew how Tony reacted to pressure, and it was usually bad. "Let's stick with maybe some plane tickets as soon as you're back to being in one piece with no staples and stitches needed."

"Whatever happened to 'go big or go home'?" Tony wondered aloud, though he didn't argue. "Fine. I vote for a cabin in the backwoods of Europe somewhere, though. And we don't need plane tickets. I have a few of those things laying around somewhere. Planes. I'm kind of a rich guy, remember?" Tony hadn't really used any of his private jets since developing the suit, so it seemed like as good an excuse as any to dig one out of the mothballs.

Steve huffed out a laugh and nodded. "Yeah, I guess I do. It's just not what I'm used to." He was used to barely being able to do anything at all, to having to worry about how he'd pay for food let alone anything else. "Just remember, I hadn't even left the country till I joined the army. I didn't have a whole lot of... well, of anything. For a long time it was just me and Bucky kind of barely getting by. Then he joined up. I thought I was gonna get left behind."

"Well, nothing you have to worry about now," Tony pointed out. "We'll... I don't know... do something outrageously extravagant. Eat an endangered animal or something." Thinking about all the things Steve had never had made him want to present the man the world on a silver plate. "Good thing you didn't get left behind. Then we wouldn't be cuddling."

"Yeah, good thing." Steve wondered at times if it wouldn't have been better to stay home, if Bucky would have been safer that way somehow. He also wondered what the Tessaract would have done if he hadn't been there. Steve closed his eyes and sighed. Whatever past issues he would have loved to fix, he was grateful for Tony's presence, for the man's warm embrace. "Thanks for making it worth the trip."

Tony looked up at that, looking earnestly surprised. "I... Uh..." He knew what Steve had been through. The serum, the war, losing his best friend, leaving his entire life and culture and decade behind, being frozen solid... That the blonde thought Tony made all that worthwhile was a little staggering. Intimidating, even. Tony swallowed. It wasn't often words failed him. Giving up on coming up with something smart to say, he reaching up and turned Steve's head into a slow, tender kiss.

 

Steve smiled as their lips parted again, holding Tony's face gently in his hands. He could see everything Tony didn't know how to say and felt his heart flutter in his chest. "Y'know how I warned you I could get used to this? I think maybe I already have." Even if they were at times almost painfully different and decades apart, they fit. They evened each other out. He stole another kiss. Steve took it as far as he dared without risking Tony's stitches and his own tenuous self control. "You have no idea the things I'm gonna do to you once you've got a clean bill of health..."

Tony felt his pulse quicken at the thought. The kissing hadn't hurt, either. "No, but I want to," Tony said, his voice a little deeper than it had been a moment before. "Hopefully it's hot, sweaty, and takes up at least half my day." He was really beginning to loathe the stitches. "And remind me to 'thank' Logan's brother when I get better for interfering with my sexy funtime."

"Don't worry, already planning to kill him. Slowly. Painfully. If Logan's nice, I'll let him help." The bad blood between them was obvious from a million miles away. Everything about Logan screamed "family problems." It was true of most of them, so Steve wasn't bothered. As he spoke, Steve drifted down to kiss Tony's neck, soft, gentle touches of lips to skin. "I'm going to do a whole lot more of this and be a whole lot less gentle about it."

Tony couldn't help a soft whimper as he pressed himself against Steve. "Y-you could just continue now. I'm alright with that," he breathed shakily. He knew Steve was just teasing, but he couldn't help the goosebumps that rose on his skin. He liked the idea of Steve being a little rough with him. Or a lot. "The whole teasing thing? Going to get you back for that somehow. Not sure how, though. Not one for restraint. Don't think I could tease back."

 

"Mmmm...no, you aren't," Steve agreed. Badly as he wanted to lose himself in Tony, he also wanted to be available when Nat was ready for visitors. "After we see Nat, let's come back up here so I can give you that blow job we talked about earlier. The one you're going to be very good and very still for so we don't hurt your stitches."

"You... are going... to give me a heart attack," Tony murmured as he pressed a few kisses to whatever part of Steve he could reach without really moving too much. "Or brain damage. I'm not sure how long I'm supposed to be able to live with this much blood below my neckline." It was frustrating, sure, but the teasing was also rather endearing. In a maddening way. "Damn you and your discipline."

 

"Damn you being so damn sexy." Steve nipped gently at Tony's neck and then forced himself to stop. "I'm gonna take good care of you... in every possible way. Though for now that's mostly going to mean meds and rest." His phone buzzed and Steve grabbed it. "Clint's in talking to her. She's pretty wiped. Maybe no visits tonight, so...." Steve grinned wickedly and pulled the covers off of Tony. "Still up for some fun?"

"In more than one way, yes," Tony answered, returning Steve's grin with one of his own. After all the teasing, he was already half hard, and he immediately dragged Steve into a long, hungry kiss. He drew back, eyes hooded and lips parted as he sighed heavily. "I need you," he murmured, the words emphatic rather than pleading as Tony held tight to the other man.

Steve slowly rubbed his hand over Tony's hardening cock by way of response. He really did care about Nat. He really did want to see her, but that was off the table, and for the time being, he wanted Tony even more. It was a dangerous thing to be so entangled so fast and be so willing to put Tony before the rest of the team. He watched the billionaire closely before moving down Tony's body. He pointedly ignored the man's injuries in favor of carefully hooking his thumbs into the waistband of Tony's underwear. Steve inched the fabric down so that he could kiss his lover's hip.

Tony squirmed, then winced a little as it aggravated his stitches. Reminding himself that he'd likely get completely deprived of what was coming if Steve decided Tony couldn't hold still, the billionaire forced himself to subside, instead pushing himself up on his elbows as much as he could and watching the blonde intently. Steve was entrancing to watch. The man's perfect lips on Tony's skin, that perfect blonde hair just mussed enough to lightly drape over bright blue eyes... Tony couldn't imagine anyone sexier. "You know you look amazing, right?" he murmured breathlessly, the reactor on his chest bobbing slightly as he panted in anticipation.

Steve just smiled in response and licked a drip of precum from the head of Tony's cock. He loved watching Tony fall apart. The man looked at him like he was a dream come true, and it was a feeling he could happily get used to. There were a lot worse things in the world to be than Tony Stark's fantasy. "You tell me if you're having trouble keeping still. I can always stop," Steve teased. Despite the words, he took Tony's hips in his hands and held them firmly as he slowly began to swallow Tony's length from tip to base.

Tony opened his mouth to tell Steve he'd figure out a way to kill him if the man stopped, but the sight and sensation of Steve slowly swallowing him stopped everything. Instead, a shaky moan was all that escaped, and Tony's hands balled into fists in the comforter. "Steve...." he groaned, closing his eyes and arching his head back as he tried to calm himself. He had to take a few deep breaths to focus. //Don't want this over too soon.// He finally opened his eyes again, looking down to watch Steve's full lips slide over his shaft.

 

Steve stopped just long enough for Tony to get a grip. As badly as he wanted to push the man to the his limits, Steve didn't want him hurt more. He met Tony's dark eyes and began to bob his head in slow, steady rhythm designed to tease but not fulfill all of his needs. He wanted to take Tony's mind off his injuries for as long as they both managed to last.

Tony moaned, his hips pushing uselessly against Steve's grip. It hurt his stitches a bit, but not enough to make him want to stop. The restraining hands pressing down on him were a strange turn-on. The thought of the restrained strength his lover used to keep him pinned made Tony that much hotter for the man. "F-for a guy that didn't get a lot of... practice... you're good at this," he managed.

"Always been a quick learner," Steve mumbled before filling his mouth again. Tony writhed gorgeously with every movement. If Steve was honest, it was one of his favorite parts of sex. The intimate power of it appealed to him, and Steve felt far less likely to hurt his partner through inattention or a momentary loss of control.

Tony shivered, his toes curling as Steve's throat seemed to milk away what sanity he had left. The fact that Steve was obviously enjoying himself was almost as intoxicating as the feel of his tongue on Tony's flesh. "Can... say that aga-ain," Tony managed, his gaze fixing on the ceiling as he tried to hold out a little longer. "S-soon," he panted.

Soon was fine by Steve. Given all the teasing he'd done it would have been cruel to try to make Tony wait, and they could always go again after he had a chance to catch his breath. Rather than reply aloud, Steve simply sucked harder and moved faster. He also held onto Tony's hips just a fraction tighter to keep him from twisting around too much when he came.

Hips pinned, Tony's elbows pressed hard into the mattress as he arched desperately, crying out in pure pleasure. After all the anticipation, the orgasm was so intense and lasted so long that Tony saw spots. As he finally collapsed in a quivering pile, he groaned softly. "Good thing... I have this," he panted, touching the arc reactor. "Think I might have had a... heart attack otherwise."

 

Steve grinned up at the other man. He settled happily next to his lover and curled himself around Tony. With his head on the pillow, he gazed at Tony with what could only be called adoration. "You're beautiful like that... lost in the moment..." Steve's fingers trailed gently down over to the arc reactor. Knowing what it was holding at bay scared him. The thin line between safe and dead when it came to Tony was too tenuous. "There's no way to take the shrapnel out?" he asked after a long silence.

"No. Well... yes." When Steve gave him a look, Tony sighed. "They can try. But there's about a twenty-five percent chance of me dying in the process, whereas there's really no chance of that happening with the reactor. SHIELD made sure of that. I mean, I might get eaten by aliens, but these thumbtacks in my heart aren't going to get me."

Steve continued tracing his fingers around the ring of metal but nodded. "No surgery, then," he agreed with a faint smile. He didn't want to put Tony in danger, but one small device being the difference between life and death made him uneasy. //Then again, it's a device Tony made.// For all his flaws, Tony had a mastery over technology that left him impressed and often confused. "You make sure this keeps working, and I'll back you up with the aliens."

Tony looked down to watch Steve's fingers trace the reactor, then looked up at his lover with a warm, almost impish smile. He was quiet for a long moment, just watching Steve's face, then he leaned up and pressed a slow kiss to the man's full lips. "It's not going to quit. Not before I do." He lightly toyed with a few locks of disheveled blonde hair. "But I like that. You worrying about me. I mean, not that you worry, but... thanks," he finished lamely. Tony could barely articulate how he felt at the moment. The list of people who had truly worried about his safety for reasons that weren’t financial was pointedly short.

"I'm glad you like it. Pretty sure I couldn't not worry. It's kind of what I do." Steve laughed quietly and let his hand drift to rest on Tony's stomach. The warm, quiet moments were almost too sweet. He knew the world would intrude with a thousand new problems soon enough, but he relished the time they had in the meanwhile. "You got me started worrying before I even liked you. Apparently it's your superpower."

"Yeah, you're not the only one," Tony muttered, thinking back to Pepper. Worrying over him had eventually chased her away. He still remembered her breaking down on the roof after the Vanko fight. The relationship hadn't held much past that. Tony placed his hand over Steve's, absently tracing its shape with his fingers. He paused, looking up at Steve. "Was it just because I was on the team? I mean, when you worried-about-but-hated me."

It was a more difficult question than it should have been, and Steve gave it proper respect by thinking through all the potential ways of putting it through his head first. "It was a lot of things," he settled on at last. "It was you being on the team, it was your dad being my friend - I know, you don't like to talk about him - it was just... you." Steve laughed at how stupid it sounded and pulled Tony in a little closer. "Eventually I kinda realized maybe you were under my skin for a reason."

"Ohh, unresolved sexual tension. Well, understandable. I'm pretty magnetic," he decided, happily snuggling up to the other man. He winced as his stitches tugged, squirming to get close to Steve without pressuring the bandages or sutures. "Just... A little... Ok, ok... and good." He sighed. "Well, I thought you were an uptight ass. But... well, hard to resist that ass. And..." Tony looked away, feeling faintly nervous. "I guess, when I woke up after... after the whole vortex thing, the look on your face was... it stuck with me. I'm not sure how to... Weird, having someone care that much when they didn’t have to." New York had pretty well done in what was left of his relationship with Pepper. That had left Tony even more fixated on the way Steve had been looking at him when he'd been jolted awake.

Just thinking about that moment made a chill run through Steve. Even though he and Tony had been allies at the time and not yet friends, it had hurt. The idea that the man had stepped up and been everything Steve thought he couldn't be only to go and die... but then his eyes had opened and Steve had found himself breathing again. "Don't ever do that to me again, by the way. Ever. It was bad before, but now I'm pretty sure I couldn't take it. I'm old, remember? I could have a stroke."

Tony made a show if looking confused. "Didn't we establish that I'm technically the old guy? Now I'm getting confused. I need a hug," he decided, head resolutely pressed against Steve’s shoulder. "Besides, with all the stuff I've survived, I think I can assume my expiration date is less milk-like and more cheetoh-like." He didn't like to think about it, in truth. He'd nearly died enough times that thinking about all those times was almost enough to start a panic attack in and of itself. 

 

"Good point." Steve smiled and kissed Tony's shoulder, then his neck. "In that case, I'd better take care of your heart instead." It was a loaded statement and a cheesy one to boot, but Steve didn't really care. He'd been accused of being ridiculously old fashioned and far too nice. Tony needed a little of both from time to time. "So we talked about a vacation. Where exactly do billionaire playboys go on a romantic vacation? And if you start telling me about all the girls you took someplace, you're gonna be surprised how fast I forget you have stitches and push you out of bed."

"I really wouldn't expect that from Captain America. Seems a little... evil," Tony observed, but smiled nonetheless. "As for vacation spots... Paris? Iceland? Germany? Or maybe something tropical, like Fiji?" He shrugged. "Or we could just find the most remote cabin in Colorado and hide for a few months. If be alright with that."

"Mmmm..." Just the thought of a nice, cozy cabin and nights spent curled up in front of the fire with Tony left him feeling better even if cold wasn’t his favorite by and large. "The cabin. Definitely." Knowing Tony it would be a "cozy" ten bedroom mansion, but it was the thought that counted. "You, me, chilly nights, a warm fire? That sounds pretty close to perfection if you ask me. Then we can get mostly naked and go hang out at the beach next vacation." It was presumptuous to assume that they'd be together for more than one vacation, for long enough to make that happen, but it felt right. Steve believed they would be, and it was as simple as that.

"I could get behind that. Using you for a blanket. You're like a big, blonde teddy bear. That threatened to throw a sick guy out of his bed," Tony said, pressing a kiss to Steve's chest to show there were no hard feelings. He reached up and ruffled Steve's hair further. "You look good like this. All disheveled. Though, gotta say... my favorite look - aside from naked and fucking me - has to be you after working out."

 

"When I'm sweaty and disgusting?" Steve arched an eyebrow. "Y'know, I should probably be more surprised than I am." Just talking about sex with Tony was enough to make the idea of waiting - and possibly waiting quite awhile - painful on a lot of levels. "Not surprised. Kinda intrigued, though. Good to know I can go spend a few hours at the gym and not have to worry about showering before I throw you up against the wall. Convenient."

"Yeah, you can skip the showers." Tony grinned, running a hand over Steve's arm. "I mean, is it really that surprising? You get all flushed and mussed and pumped up, and you're surprised that I'd want to jump you right then and there?" Tony quirked an eyebrow at the other man and gave him a flirtatious grin. "We have met, right?"

"Once or twice." Steve groaned and took a deep breath. "How long does it take normal people to heal again? Because we need to work on that." He knew in the end that any time they spent waiting would only make the first time after Tony got back to normal better, but less intellectually Steve also suspected he would have the world's worst case of blue balls by then.

"Few days," Tony answered. "I mean, it's just a flesh wound, right? Mild internal injuries at best. So, probably tomorrow I'll be fine." //If I'm not, they can just sew me back up, because I'm not waiting anymore.// The billionaire leaned up, nibbling at Steve's ear as his hand drifted low over the blonde's abs. "Seem a little restless," he said, his hand stopping right at the waistband of Steve's briefs. "Hard time waiting it out?"

Steve's breath caught at the teasing touch. "There's a slight chance you're terrible for my willpower," Steve agreed. He bit his lip and observed, "That doesn't mean I expect you to be up to doing anything for me, though. All evidence to the contrary, I can do waiting."

"Hm. Who said it was about you?" Tony countered, a wicked glint in his eye as he continued to trail his fingers along the waistband. He was, frankly, running out of patience himself, and watching Steve worry his lip in anticipation wasn't helping.

It was all Steve could do not to beg Tony to give in and just touch him already. Just the look in Tony's eyes made him weak in the knees. The man was sex on legs. Even if he'd wanted to try being strong and saying no, Steve wasn't sure it was possible to turn down Tony Stark looking so hot and so eager. "Please, Tony..." The words escaped in a breathless gasp despite his best efforts.

Steve had barely finished the soft plea when Tony's hand was around the man's shaft, his lips at the blonde's neck. "You know you're maddeningly sexy, right? I've mentioned that, haven't I?" he asked, stroking his lover slowly. "Love seeing you turned on, watching you cum..." There was something about making someone so seemingly clean cut look so debauched that Tony found it irresistible.

"Glad to hear it," Steve managed in a choked whisper, "because it's hard not to be turned on when you're around." Tony was always distracting, but when Tony was actually trying to be seductive, there was no holding back. He rolled his hips and tried to keep his movements limited. The more he could hold back, the less chance there would be of a wrong move putting extra strain on Tony's overtaxed body. Steve limited his own touches to gently caressing Tony's face, his neck, and carding fingers through his dark hair.

In spite of protesting stitches, Tony stretched up for a long, slow kiss. It was impossible not to get turned on at the feel of Steve's cock in his hand. The only thing that sounded better... Tony shifted to lay on his stomach, careful of his injuries, and pressed a kiss to Steve's hip, glancing up at the blonde with a wicked smirk as he continued to stroke Steve's cock. Tony wasn't sure how far he could push with his injuries, but he planned to find the line and threaten to step over it.

"C-careful," Steve stuttered even as all the blood rushed away from his head. He wanted Tony's mouth on him so bad it was difficult not to grab him by the hair and take what he needed. Instead of taking, though, Steve managed a few shuddering breaths and stayed as still as possible. In as steady a voice as he could manage, he said more certainly, "Be careful. Stop when... stop if you... if you need to, okay?"

"Mhm," Tony agreed distractedly. Deciding he'd teased them both enough, he fixed wicked dark eyes on Steve's face and, holding firmly to the base of the man's cock, slowly took the head and part of the shaft into his mouth. He let his eyes slowly drift nearly shut, moaning as the taste of his lover filled his mouth.

Steve cursed under his breath and clutched the comforter in his hands. It was better than grabbing onto Tony and risking hurting him. He almost decided to warn the man against pushing himself too hard again but thought better of it. Steve just wanted him not to stop. He stared down at Tony as his lover's cheeks hollowed and the suction became delicious to the point of near pain.

Tony's eyes flicked to Steve's face. The man was a sight to behold, his eyelids lowered, full lips parted and face flushed. The billionaire just wanted to fuck Steve senseless, but even Tony knew better than to think he was up to the task. Focusing on his 'work' instead, Tony let go of Steve's cock with his hand, bracing it on the man's perfect abs as he slowly dove further down his lover's shaft, stopping only when his lips were wrapped around the base. He began bobbing his head more steadily, each time bottoming out on Steve's cock before drawing back just far enough to get a breath and then diving back down.

 

"You're so hot... fuck, so hot... Tony..." Steve knew it wouldn't last long. In fact, he knew it would last no time at all. Tony looked too good, and the heat of his mouth was too overwhelming. He’d been hard already from getting Tony off, and the edge was closer than he would have liked. "Just keep doing that," he murmured, eyes falling closed as he tried not to think and not to move.

Tony moaned, letting one of his hands gently fondle Steve's balls before his fingers wandered southward. One digit slowly worked its way into the blonde, finding that perfect spot inside him and crooking against it. He sucked Steve’s cock as deep into his throat as he could and moaned, eager to taste his lover's release.

Steve had to fight to keep from screaming. His grip on the comforter kept him more or less still - at least as much as he could while his vision was whiting out from pleasure and it felt like Tony was sucking his brain out through his dick. He panted Tony's name through the climax, a litany of the ways the man made him feel wonderful. When he was finally able to do anything but shake, Steve groaned. "As soon as you're well. Seriously, as soon as, we're going to spend some more time on that. Having you inside me, I mean. Something a little more substantial than your finger next time, maybe."

Tony wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and grinned, gingerly moving back to Steve's side. "I think I could get on board with that," he decided. Much as he enjoyed having Steve fuck him senseless, he was very interested to try the other side of equation. He sagged against his lover. "Maybe we could talk to medical tomorrow, find out for sure when they can unstitch me. I mean, it's gonna be hard to step on Creed's throat if they won't let me out of a wheelchair." He paused, cocking his head to one side. "Maybe I could make a wheelchair version of the suit...."

Steve had regained just enough brain function to lift a finger. "No. Absolutely not." He fell limp against the bed again a second later. "Besides, I'm pretty sure we agreed to not give each other heart attacks. That means no suit-powered wheelchairs. Ever." Steve took some of the sting out of the comments by rolling over and lazily kissing Tony while stroking fingers up and down his arm. "You have to admit, the upside of this is that we've more or less spent SHIELD-sanctioned time in bed together having sex all day."

Tony propped his head up on one arm so he could look at Steve more easily. "I like how you think." He paused, brow furrowed. "Wait, does this mean we have to give Fury and Coulson a detailed report? I don't think they'd like that. ...or they'd like it too much. Not sure which." He thought for a moment. "Wonder how long they'd buy that I need 'bed rest'."

"About exactly as long as you really need it, and we both know that won't keep me here." Steve wanted to take Loki down for everything the alleged god had done, but he wanted just as badly to remain by Tony's side every step of his recovery. "Doesn't mean we can't make good use of the time we get. If we do this right, you might end up with some fond memories of these injuries."

"Yeah, we'll all be sitting around, munching shwarma, and I'll be like, 'Remember that time Logan's brother tried to cut me in half, and then Steve and I stayed in bed all day and fucked like animals? Best thing, ever.' Everyone'll get a kick out of it," Tony said, giving Steve a wink to let him know that he wouldn't go that far. The billionaire didn't need it spelled out for him that Steve would probably rather keep the gory details of their relationship between them. He pecked a kiss to the end of Steve's nose. "It'd at least be worth it to watch you blush."

"It might... if there weren't better ways to make me do it," Steve answered. He kissed Tony just beneath his ear and whispered, "Just think of all the things you could be doing under the table or that I could be doing to you without anybody knowing a thing." Tony enjoyed making him blush. He enjoyed making Tony look like he was on the verge of swallowing his tongue. "But for now, I'm thinking them knowing we're together is plenty." He glanced around the room and then back at Tony. "I always kind of figured if they wanted to watch they already were, I just prefer not to think about Maria Hill eavesdropping on any of this."

Tony shifted back a little and looked at Steve like he might have a fever. "Hang on; rewind. Did you seriously just invite me to give you an under-the-table BJ the next time we're out to dinner with the team?" he asked, looking like he was pretty sure he'd died and gone to the best heaven possible. "Because I seem to recall someone insisting there was no way we were going to do anything in a restaurant bathroom unless there was a solid deadbolt on the door, and I'm pretty sure that under a table is gonna be way less privacy."

"I may have just been trying to make you look like that. Maybe." Steve couldn't help but laugh at the look on Tony's face. "A blow job might be a little obvious, but a hand job... if we're all drinking. Or it's just Nat and Clint." Somehow he doubted either one of them would bat an eyelash whether they knew what was going on or not. He knew nothing about their sex life and frankly didn't want to, but Steve had never taken them for vanilla one way or another. "If it's you, I can probably be persuaded to be flexible. A little bit. Sometimes. But you have to admit that public restrooms are pretty gross."

"Well, that's fair," Tony admitted, settling against his lover once again. "Back seat of the car was good, though, right?" he asked, running a hand down Steve's chest. "Not sure about how I feel about Romanov and Barton being there, though. If it's just them, they might wanna join in. Barton, at least." When Steve gave him a look, the billionaire shrugged. "He’s flexible. If you get my drift."

"I think I do... and I think that's about all I want to know," Steve added warningly. If allowed, he knew Tony would clue him in to everything, and he still needed to be able to look the man in the eye when giving him orders. "I'm sure you know more than enough for both of us." He made a mental note to watch just how handsy he got with Tony in front of the man just in case. Sharing with Logan had been fun... once. He wasn't sure he was interested in doing it again. Steve was starting to like having Tony just to himself. "The car was definitely fun. Anywhere it's just the two of us is pretty nice, actually. You're pretty nice."

"You know, of all the adjectives used to describe me, I think that's a first for 'nice'," Tony observed, leaning in for a chaste kiss. "Wait, just the two of us... Does that mean that the elevator's an option? I mean, I could probably find a way to get it stuck between floors or something." Knowing he was probably pushing it, Tony decided, "Or... we could just do the log cabin. That works, too."

"Or the log cabin and the elevator," Steve mused with a hint of a smile. "I mean, we have to get downstairs to start the vacation, right? Elevator rides can run a little long when there are technical issues that I'm sure you and Jarvis is more than capable of creating." He sounded entirely earnest and not in the least bit devious, but the light in Steve's eyes said otherwise. "And I almost didn't say nice. I almost said 'swell,' but the last time I did, Clint didn't stop teasing me for two weeks."

Tony had to bite both lips to keep from laughing out loud; probably a bad idea with abdominal stitches. "C-can't imagine why," he said, though the huge grin on his face said the exact opposite. "I think you got off lucky. I mean, only getting two weeks of teasing. Then again, he might've been afraid you'd actually punch him."

"He should have been," Steve agreed. By the end of it, he hadn't responded anymore. He'd just glared and thought about throwing Clint out the nearest window. Thankfully for Clint, he also happened to like the archer when he wasn't being insufferable. Also, he hadn't wanted to deal with Natasha's judging looks if he happened to put the man in the hospital. "You get off easier. You're pretty."

"Oh, if I'm allowed to be a jerk based on how pretty I am, I guess I better pump up the volume," Tony decided. He knew he'd gotten away with near murder on not just a few occasions because people - especially Pepper - had very little resistance to his puppy dog eyes. "And here I thought you'd be immune."

"Not immune... though I'm working on it. For the record, though, I mostly just find it hard not to indulge you." Steve shifted to lie on his side with his fingers still curling against Tony's abdomen just above his new stitches. "I really like it when you're happy. Sometimes it feels like you don't get the chance to be often enough, and when you're smiling, it's really hard to do anything that might make you stop."

Tony's smirk faded. His expression shifted to something indistinct. Vulnerable. Uncertain. Tony shifted uneasily, looking away for a moment. "I, uh... thank you," he murmured, reaching up to place his hand over Steve's. It was hard to know what to say. Tony quirked a faint smile before looking back up at Steve. "Sorry. I'm... not good at this whole... feelings thing. At least, not talking about them. I am pretty happy, though. With you."

The words were pretty intense coming from Tony, and Steve accepted them with the same gravity. "I'm glad to hear it." He laced their fingers together. "You don't ever have to say things like that if it isn't comfortable, but just so you know, it's amazing to hear it." He could tell what Tony felt. Knowing the man cared enough to make himself say it made Steve's heart swell.

"Not uncomfortable so much as I just... usually say all the wrong things," Tony admitted. He always felt the need to caveat and preamble and generally just wound up getting lost in his own train of thought before he ever managed to get around to saying what he'd intended. He'd managed to make Pepper angry not just a few times doing so. 

"I think you're pretty well spoken," Steve answered with a laugh. "How about I go get us some food? If we're planning to spend all night in bed, I'll need sustenance. Any requests?"

"Sushi? Or Thai. Either one." Tony paused, then gave Steve a pout. "Wait, you're planning to leave to get this 'food' of yours, aren't you?"

"I would never subject you to the cafeteria." Steve rolled his eyes and got up to get dressed. "Even if you did his all the chefs there yourself."


	15. Dinner and Debrief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clint and Phil spend some time bonding, worrying, and then being interrupted. As usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No smut, plot only. Look, at least one 'ship had to be a slow burn ;)

Phil entered a moment after Logan left. "That went about as well as I expected." He looked Clint over and found the Archer relatively unharmed. Clint looked shaken, and that was extreme enough of a reaction coming from him. "Let's get you somewhere to finish that nap. You deserve it."

Clint nodded gratefully. "Your suite? Don't think I'd survive the elevator ride up to mine." He was pretty sure that if he so much as leaned against something, he'd be out like a light. He followed Phil gratefully back to the man's room, tossing his equipment and vest aside and crawling back onto the couch. Already laying down, he realized it was a bit chilly in the room, and managed to mumble, "Any chance there's a blanket? S'cold."

Coulson fished a fluffy blanket out of the trunk at the foot of his bed. By the time he got back, Clint looked half gone. Carefully Coulson spread the blanket over him and did his best not to linger over the job despite Clint looking unfairly adorable curled up asleep on his couch. Coulson allowed himself only a moment to watch before he returned to his vigil at the monitors.

Clint was more or less in a coma, snoring softly, for several hours. As his dreams drew to a close, though, he was back in the hallway with Logan. This time, fighting for his life and Coulson's. Deadly blades were buried in the Agent's chest before the archer could do anything about it. "Coulson!" The name jarred Clint awake, and he realized he was the one who'd said it. It hadn't been loud, but it had been enough. He was on the floor, tangled in a throw he didn't even remember falling asleep with. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was, and a few more before he could hear anything but his heart pounding in his ears. Sagging forward and propping his elbows on his knees, he rubbed a hand over his face and tried to relax. He'd get up when he was shaking less.

Coulson was by Clint's side in a flash. The man looked like he'd seen a ghost. "Barton?" The sound of his name and the fear in the archer's choice echoed in his ears. He couldn't help reaching out to touch Clint's shoulder. "What was that all about?"

Clint flinched involuntarily at the sudden touch, but it did help ground him more firmly back into reality. Eyes still a little wild and heart still racing, he shook his head. "Just... just a nightmare," he murmured, finally pushing himself up from the floor. "We were taking care of the thing with Scott, and Logan..." He trailed off. Coulson was a good friend. The image of him getting brutally murdered was hard enough to get out of Clint's head; talking about the dream seemed too much like inviting it to become reality. Trying to change the subject, he asked, "How long was I out?"

"Probably not long enough," Coulson answered, taking a seat on the couch and patting the one next to him to encourage Clint to do the same. He wanted to press and find out just what Clint had seen in his dreams, but he resisted the urge. It wasn't his business if Clint didn't want to share it. "How long has it been since you had a real, solid night's sleep?" If Natasha was out of the infirmary, she would have been lecturing the man. Clint's odd schedule was a point of frustration to both Phil and Natasha, Phil because he was used to a relatively steady schedule on office days and Natasha because she believed that a strong schedule was a sign of proper self discipline.

Clint settled on the couch, still rubbing his face with both hands as he thought the question over. "I... uhm... couple... three... nights ago?" he guessed, sighing when Coulson gave him a look. "In my defense, I had a night mission, then I had to have sex with the result, and then I had completely planned on sleeping today - or yesterday, if we've crossed the midnight line - but then Loki happened."

Coulson arched an eyebrow. "Mmmhmm," he answered without any apparent faith whatsoever. "Are you hungry? We don't know what's going to happen in the next couple of days. I want you fed and rested. My life might depend on it." If Logan broke down on top of whatever was happening otherwise with Loki, they'd need all hands on deck and in control. "What's your poison, Barton?" Coulson asked, already leading the way to the kitchen.

"The edible kind," Clint decided, tugging his vest back on and following Coulson. Getting the look that told him that wasn't going to cut it from Coulson, he sighed. "I don't know... Uhm, mac and cheese? Bacon? I think I have some Snickers bars in the cupboard back in my room," he rambled, talking through it as he tried to decide on something. He hadn't eaten in almost as long as he hadn't slept, and it left everything sounding amazing. "I'd also go for something cooked on the stove. Italian?" He paused, then nodded as they moved into the kitchen. "Yeah. Cheese. And pasta."

"Italian it is," Coulson agreed. He began gathering things from the cabinet with his usual efficiency. The whole kitchen was organized like something out of a show room with everything properly labeled and stored. "I've never been able to understand living on your own and not being able to cook." The words were conversational rather than judgmental as Coulson went through the task of preparing a sauce on one burner and boiling water on another with practiced ease. "You're welcome to come by sometimes, you know, get some actual food."

"I can make sandwiches. And toast. Bacon and eggs," Clint said in his own half-hearted defense. "But you should know that if you feed me, you'll never get rid of me. I'm like a stray cat." He settled at the island bar, watching Clint work for a few moments before offering, "I could help, if you like. Cut veggies or something. I mean, it can't be that different from precisely eviscerating someone, right?" he asked, tone and expression leaving it unclear how serious he was.

"Not much different in my experience, no," Phil agreed before tossing Clint a bag of salad. "There are croutons in that cabinet there. This way we can pretend that we're being healthy while we eat fettuccine alfredo." He watched Clint search sluggishly for bowls and couldn't help smiling. "As for you never leaving... in case you haven't noticed, I've been your handler for years. If I was trying to get rid of you, you'd be gone by now."

Clint paused and gave Phil a wary look. "That was pretty sociopathic. But thanks?" He turned back to the cabinet, jumping slightly to snag the croutons off the back of the top shelf. "Didn't know that being a handler involved feeding the asset, too. Does that mean you also take me for walks?" he wanted to know, plopping the croutons on the counter and dumping the salad mix in the bowl. He started cutting up some baby carrots to go with it. //This'll be the healthiest thing I've eaten in... a year. At least.//

Phil smirked. "Sometimes. What did you think the missions were really for?" He watched Clint prepping the carrots and found himself musing that domestic looked good on the man. It looked right. //Dangerous train of thought. Very dangerous.// He was willing to admit that perhaps he'd been Clint's handler for too long. They were used to each other. They were close. He honestly considered Clint a friend even if he wasn't sure that the sentiment was returned. "I don't mind having you around."

Clint paused, his eyebrows flicking up in surprise as he offered a faint smile. "That's good. 'Cause if you cook half as well as your couch is comfy, I wasn’t kidding about that not getting rid of me bit," he joked, tossing the carrots into the salad and starting on the tomatoes. "I mean, I - ow. Ow! Dammit." He sighed, grabbing a paper towel and wrapping it around one finger. "Okay, so there might be some blood in the salad."

"Good thing I've seen your medical records." Coulson turned the burners down and led Clint by the wrist into the bathroom, where he held the cut under water and applied Neosporin before pressing a band aid it. "I'm petty sure you would have lost a limb to sheer neglect by now if it wasn't for Natasha and I." On his own, Clint wasn't prone to taking any sort of care of himself. "Now, let's go finish dinner before you slice off another finger. That would make it harder to hold the fork." 

 

"It's just a nick," Clint protested as they moved back into the kitchen. "Pretty sure I've had worse." Then again, Phil or Nat had also pretty regularly been there to see to those wounds as well. He still remembered Nat digging shrapnel out of his back as they'd flown back from Budapest. "But thanks, dad," he teased, grinning broadly when Coulson gave him a glare. He had to admit, Phil was probably right. If not for his two friends, Clint would have been in a lot worse shape.

Coulson tried not to let the remark get under his skin, but it was an important reminder. He could have been Clint's father or close to it, and the idea wasn't exactly a comfortable one given how often his thoughts about Clint headed straight into the gutter. Instead of putting anymore thought into it, he tried to focus on finishing up and plating dinner for them. "Hopefully it will meet your high standards. I know it's no blue box macaroni," Coulson teased as he set the food down on the table alongside Clint's salads.

"Looks great," Clint answered earnestly. He hadn't realized the impact his teasing had had. The archer eagerly gathered a plate of food and dug in, his eyebrows raising in pleasant surprise. "This is amazing, Coulson," he declared around a mouthful. "Where'd you learn to cook like this, anyway? I mean, I know you've been doing this awhile, but... damn."

"First of all, please keep in mind that I can poison you anytime I want if I'm doing the cooking. Secondly, I told you before: I consider it an essential skill for anyone living alone. I decided early on that it was never a good idea to count on someone else to take care of me. Our line of work doesn't often allow for it." Coulson shrugged as if the philosophy wasn't one of the more depressing ones he held dear. "Besides, I like to eat. I honestly don't understand going to the gym if you don't have anything to burn off."

Clint laughed. "Good point," he agreed. He started to take another bite, then hesitated. "But, y'know... I'd make you a sandwich if you needed me to. Not as cool as this, but it'd be edible. I might even throw lettuce on there. And I promise no poison," he added with a wink. It was fun to give Coulson a good ribbing now and again, even if the man had already threatened to dispose of him twice in less than an hour.

"I'd like that. And I might have been lying about the poison. I'm fairly certain I wouldn't hurt you unless I absolutely had to." In fact, he was completely certain of that fact. More than once Phil had found himself feeling grateful that Natasha had been the one to confront Clint instead of him despite how poorly his own simultaneous plan had gone. "I meant it about being welcome here, though. You are. Not that I suspect you'll be terribly interested in hanging out and watching me read or watch television or catch up on paperwork, but... the offer stands just the same."

Clint smiled. "Thanks. Might take you up on that once in awhile," he said, honestly grateful. The archer was a true loner, preferring to recharge himself with training, reading, and generally hiding from the world in his spare time, but it wasn't rare for him to find himself wishing for a familiar face to talk to, even just a little. "And pretty glad you're not all about hurting me. Think I've had enough blows to the head. Probably get a few more before I retire. Rather not hit my quota too soon."

Coulson chuckled at that. "I guess it does help to have a couple spares in your back pocket." He wondered how many of his traditional SHIELD agent nine lives he'd used up coming back from Loki stabbing him through the heart. He guessed more than a comfortable margin. As always, even thinking about it all struck a painful chord, something that ran deeper than fear or unease, and Coulson frowned briefly. He shook off the whole thing and tried to focus on the moment, on Clint sitting at the table enjoying a nice meal with him. Even knowing Clint would probably prefer Natasha's company, it still felt good. "So how do you spend your spare time - obvious, vaguely disturbing sexual exploits aside?"

Still all-too-aware of the fact that Coulson had probably witnessed some of those firsthand, Clint cleared his throat. He rarely felt weird about sex. His exhibitionist streak notwithstanding, he was pretty comfortable with the whole thing, but for some reason, the idea that a friend knew that much about his sex life was almost more unsettling than the idea that there were more than a few strangers that had seen him fuck someone. "And the obvious training to shoot things?" Clint had to think a moment. "Watch TV. Play video games. Sometimes I'll read a book. And camping and hunting. Those are fun." He snorted faintly. "Mostly things I can do away from other people, I guess," he said with a faint smile. "I'm kinda boring like that."

"Camping is good," Coulson agreed. He'd always enjoyed being out in nature, the still and quiet away from daily life. "I'm more a fishing guy than a hunter, though. It's more soothing. I guess work is stressful enough without trying to put a bullet through the eye of a wild pig on the weekends."

"Fishing's alright," Clint agreed. "As long as there are fish biting. Shooting a pig in the eye is kinda fun when I can pretend it's Loki, though," he added, an odd glint in his eye. It had been rather satisfying watching an arrow blow up in Loki's smug face, but it still hadn't been as satisfying as watching said arrow go through the god's skull would have been. Returning from his reverie, he tilted his head at Coulson. "Maybe we should go camping together sometime. I know a good place for fishing."

Surprised and frankly flattered by the invitation, Phil smiled. "I'd love that," he answered earnestly. It would be nice to relax with someone who might enjoy the scenery as much as he did. "I think after all this, we'll need a day or two off." He sat back in his chair and tilted his head at Clint. "I know you don't cook, but how do you feel about assisting with dishes?"

"That, I can do," Clint decided, moving to start gathering dishes up and putting them in the dishwasher. "And I actually do pretty good cooking over a campfire, by the by. Usually just salt and pepper over dead animal, but you'd be surprised how good that can taste." He grabbed a cloth and started wiping down the counter. "And I'm sure as hell gonna run and hide away from civilization when this is all over. Not sure I can take much more of this tower, to be honest."

Coulson considered the comment, surprised to hear it despite Clint’s sometimes solitary nature. Most people seemed to be settling into the tower one way or another. Somehow Fury had even convinced him to take a suite after a lot of pressure and cajoling and reminders that he was "part of the team" and some other patriotic crap that Coulson only later realized he probably should've been well immune to. "Not so sure you like bunking with everybody else?" He would have thought that at least the convenient middle ground with Natasha would have made the arrangement worth it in Clint's mind.

Clint shook his head. "It's not that." Well, maybe a little. Having Nat so close and still miles out of reach in a lot of ways was eating at him, but, "Mostly, just... all the stuff that's going on. I feel like I should be out doing something about Loki, and instead I'm stuck here, waiting for everyone to figure out the next step." It wasn't new. He'd played the 'hurry up and wait' game a thousand times. But Loki being out there, free, creating chaos wherever he could made it hard to deal with staying inside. "I guess really I'm just restless. It's actually kind of nice here. I mean, having you guys around. People to talk to." He still remembered talking to Steve about Tony and Logan. It hadn't been for his benefit, of course, but the opportunity to get to know a teammate better was never something he would scoff at.

"I like that too. It's different. Just running into someone while I'm grabbing a cup of coffee." Phil followed the observation with a wry smile given the rather awkward encounter the day before. "As for Loki, we're going to find him, and we're going to take him out. And this time we're going to speak to Thor about a more permanent solution to the issue." They couldn't force the future king of Asgard to kill his brother, but they could strongly suggest it. At the very least Coulson wanted to know how the hell Loki had come to be free again to start with. He was dangerous enough in chains. More quietly, he added, "I don't like that we haven't heard from Thor in all of this. It makes me nervous."

Clint nodded. "Fury hasn't mentioned it. Which makes me think he knows something." Fury staying silent sometimes was more telling than when he actually gave someone information. "And, uh, sorry about the coffee. I mean, the you finding me... when I was... Sorry," he said, clearing his throat. Bad enough Coulson had been under orders to watch everything Clint did for who-knew-how-long. It had to be even more awkward catching Clint's act live. "I'll, uh, try not to... indulge so much. Here."

"It's fine. Do what you need to do. It's a stress reliever that doesn't involve breaking the no drinking pact with Fury or getting yourself hurt. It's not a bad one." He couldn't deny that he'd prefer to never run into Clint in quite that situation again, but he was grateful at the same time for the man having an outlet. "I'd just rather not let too much of it play out again in my head. No offense."

Clint couldn't help but chuckle faintly. "None taken," he said, then quirked an eyebrow. "I'm sure you've seen worse, though. Or did you just go get coffee for those parts when you were watching me?" //Why am I pursuing this line of conversation again? He tried to let me off the hook.// Clint might have been an exhibitionist at times, but it wasn't usually his 'thing' to make people uncomfortable. Still, he couldn't help but wonder just how much Coulson had seen. He was even tempted to ask what the man thought but decided that'd definitely be crossing a few lines.

 

Coulson couldn't help it. Nevermind that he was a capable, mature agent who really had seen worse. He still blushed and ducked his head as he thought of a tactful way to explain what he'd seen. Ultimately, as usual, he decided on the truth and looked up again to meet Clint's gaze. "I saw things. Not everything, I'm sure, but some things. I've seen you with Natasha, of course, and one or two other... friends who have come by." He had looked the men up, of course. They were mostly military guys, probably all picked up at the same bar. None appeared to be any sort of security risk, none with any records to speak of, so he hadn't dug any deeper. "I assure you, it isn't something I intend to share with anyone else, and it doesn't change the way I think about you." It had, in all honesty, but not in the way Clint probably thought. It had simply made it much more difficult to keep the gorgeous archer out of his masturbatory fantasies.

Clint felt a little bad for embarrassing Coulson even further. Though it was kind of amusing to see the guy so flustered. The mention of him with Natasha made him tense. His moments with her always felt so exposed, anyway. Knowing someone else had seen some of them... //Couldn't be helped, he reminded himself.// "Well, if I'm honest, I have to say I'm impressed you can still make eye contact," Clint said, trying to lighten the subject a bit. "Like I said before... Glad it was you, not someone else."

At that Coulson chuckled as well. "Like you said - I've seen worse." His own sex life had never been quite so adventurous, but he certainly wasn't about to judge Clint for the choices he'd made. They weren't bad for the team or for Clint. Safe, sane sexual encounters with willing partners wer a reasonable way to pass the time. "What you do on your own time - and who - is your business. SHIELD doesn't care, and I sure as hell don't as long as you're careful. I mean that on all levels." Given Clint's proclivities, Coulson had made it more of a priority to check on the man's medical results more regularly. He held up a hand to ward off any protests. "Before you call me 'dad' again... I worry about all of you. It's very literally my job."

Clint tossed his head a little at that. "I'll be fine, Coulson," he insisted, crossing his arms over his chest like a kid getting scolded. He didn't argue directly, though. He shrugged a little. "I talk to my partners. They're mostly military. They have to get tested just like we do." Granted, that didn't mean that someone wouldn't lie to him, but... "I'll be fine," he repeated again.

"Okay," Coulson agreed, not bothering to point out that he already knew who most of Clint's partners were - at least the regulars - and what their status was too. It was a little invasive and a lot stalkery even in his head. He didn't want to know how it would sound out loud. "If I can trust you with my life, I guess I can trust you to know when buying a box of condoms is appropriate," Coulson allowed. He wasn't sure it was true, but he hoped it was. Hoping to shift the subject, Coulson added, "I wish Stark wasn't down for the count. Now would be a lovely time for him to research the best ways to kill a god. Slowly."

Clint smirked. "I like the way you think," he said. He forgot sometimes what Loki had done to Coulson. Not so much because he hadn't cared, but because the whole thing had seemed like one horrific nightmare, and now that Coulson was right there with him still, it seemed even less like something that had really happened. "Make sure he researches a way for us to both get to do the honors. I think we both deserve the opportunity to pull the trigger. That is, if his big brother doesn't show up and save him last minute. Again."

Coulson's jaw tensed at the thought. If Thor held back and let them clean up his mess and then saved Loki, he would be very close to wanting to kill the other god as well. He took a few breaths and finally nodded. "I think we've earned it. Unfortunately we both know that people don't often get what they've earned. I'll settle for knowing he won't be back even if he's just been thrown in the darkest jail cell in Asgard." There weren't many people or beings in the universe that Coulson hated. There were those he disliked or disagreed with, those who did distasteful things or who were painfully stupid. He hated Loki. 

Clint nodded, though he didn't look terribly convinced. He didn't like the idea that Loki might be left alive to do who-knew-what the next time he managed to talk his way out of prison. "You'd think his brother could loan me some arrows. Their weapons work on each other, right?" he wanted to know. "Or is it all like Thor's hammer? Can't pick it up unless you're special?"

"Uncertain. SHIELD hasn't encountered enough Asgardian tech to be sure." Coulson wished that weren't the case. Weapons forged in Loki's own dimension would definitely help. "Right now I'm satisfying myself thinking of creative ways to remove his internal organs with a dull spoon."

Clint chuckled. "Seen that movie. Good movie." He paused, cocked his head. "You know what's weird? I feel like Loki could be Alan Rickman's younger brother... you know, aside from one being a good actor and the other being a social deviant with mommy issues."

Phil blinked. The comment was as out of left field as he expected from Clint. "You're not wrong," Phil answered. "If he wasn't so busy trying to dominate the human race, he could try the theater." Phil wondered if Thor really saw something worth saving in Loki or if he just wanted to. "I try to remind myself that being that crazy starts somewhere. It's hard to think of him as the victim, though."

"Well, he's got the costume for a stage production, at least. But yeah... Once you're a grown-ass man... alien... thing... you really are kinda responsible for being a megalomaniacal douchebag," Clint decided, smirking faintly. It was cathartic bashing Loki with Coulson.

"If he ever chose to see about therapy... well, I'm not sure even Odin has that kind of cash." He could almost picture Loki crying on a daytime talk show. His smile broadened. "It really is nice having company. Especially someone... who understands. I try not to dwell on it, but it's hard not to some days. I don't remember much about after, but the during is a bit more vivid."

Clint sobered a little, watching Phil. "I can't imagine," he said quietly. "It was really brave, what you did. I mean... you had to have known that... that you...." //...didn't stand a chance.// Clint didn't voice the words out loud. It seemed condescending. "Wish I could've killed the bastard for you. I wanted to. Believe me. We all did. Even Tony got mad."

"I know," Coulson answered earnestly. "Fury told me. I didn't appreciate the bit with the cards. Those were expensive." He smile wryly. "I made the mistake of asking to see the security footage. It looks stupider on TV. Not to mention it's off-putting to watch yourself bleed out." The next part was the part he rarely let himself think and said even less often. "I still don't know how I'm breathing. Apparently it's classified even from me."

Clint swallowed hard and his right hand clenched subconsciously. He'd had to watch the security footage as part of their debriefing. It had given him nightmares. Coulson wasn't the first agent they'd lost. Wouldn't be the last. But there weren't a lot of people at SHIELD Clint felt any sort of connection with. Phil was one of them. Shaking himself back to reality and trying to level out his breathing, he tilted his head at Coulson. "Does it matter? You're still here. And I'm glad. I don't have many friends. Don't like the idea of losing one," the archer managed, the faintest quaver in his voice.

 

More than anything in that moment, Coulson wanted to reach over and take Clint's hand. He resisted the effort since as much as it would have been a way to soothe them both, it might also have carried connotations he wasn't ready to explore. "Thank you," he answered instead. "You're right, really. It's exactly what Fury says. It doesn't matter." His gaze narrowed briefly. "The more he says it, the less I believe it." Something was wrong. Something more than some surgery and a long vacation had gone on, but Phil couldn't for the life of him figure out what. "I guess I'll just feel better once I'm sure..." He trailed off, not sure what assurance he needed or wanted. "It doesn't matter."

Clint tilted his head. He didn't like the idea he was thinking the same way as Fury. "Well, look at it this way: if Fury was doing some kind of crazy hocus-pocus to get you back, he must think a lot of you." Fury had called Coulson his 'one good eye'. That had been rather telling in and of itself. "I'm sure he'll tell you when you need to know. That's his thing," Clint assured, giving Phil a faint smile as if to reassure the man.

Coulson smiled in return and nodded. "True. Though he does still owe me a new set of cards." Hard as it had been to talk about the situation at all, it felt better having done so. A SHIELD shrink was helpful in a way, but having a colleague to connect with was a lot more therapeutic as far as Coulson was concerned. "Between the two of us, I wonder exactly how many 'suggested' hours of counseling we've burned through. I'm guessing more than average. I guess Logan's next up in line. I just hope we can get things straightened out with him. No one deserves to have Loki in their head."

Clint snorted softly. "Yeah, I think he needed therapy when he got here. Speaking of which, shouldn't we be checking that video feed? Or just checking on Logan himself? I feel a little nervous not knowing what he's doing or where he is. Like he's going to show up and stab me. Pretty sure we're not friends," he said, though he didn't really seem concerned. "Also, how the hell are we supposed to cure him? Somehow, I think hitting him in the head with a scaffold railing won't work."

Coulson had to admit they'd gotten a little off track. More than a little. He nodded his agreement and rose just in time to hear a knock at the door. Opening it, he found himself staring at Steve, who had his serious leader face on, and Logan, who looked ready to run at any moment. "Barton, we have guests."


	16. Compromised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Logan is definitely compromised, and action needs to be taken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the chapters (along with the next one) that makes that dubious consent tag needed. The events are important to the plot overall, but skim the smut if you think that might be a bad scene for you.

>>>Earlier that night<<<  
It was a couple of hours before Logan calmed enough to feel he could talk to Scott again. He wasn't sure what to think of what had happened, but he wanted to give Scott the benefit of the doubt. He let himself into the man's suite, stalking back to Scott's bedroom. "You okay?" he asked, leaning against the door frame.

Scott let out a soft sigh. Logan sounded calmer, more centered. "Better knowing you're still talking to me, but... kind of worse knowing you're likely to threaten the lives of anyone else I talk to." He fixed Logan with a pointed stare. "Bringing back up wasn't p.c. but Agent Coulson is a superior officer, and you know I'm not the guy who's going to ignore all the rules. Besides, he seems nice. So maybe don't gut him?"

Logan crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm used to people not trustin' me. But gettin' treated like a rabid dog that might need to be put down any day ain't my cup o' tea." He snorted. "Not that they'd stand a chance. Don't mean it don't piss me off, though." Coulson wouldn't have lasted half a second. Clint might have been a handful. But still dead in the end. "Thinkin' they might've thought about hurtin' you pisses me off even more."

Scott knew he couldn't keep what he was thinking from Logan forever, not when the man knew him so well. They might not have been friends all along, but maybe even because of that, they'd watched one another closely. Scott held out his arm. The bruises on his wrist were darker than they'd been earlier that day, easily visible against his skin. "Agent Coulson didn't do this to me," he pointed out in the steadiest tone he could manage. "Are you sure there isn't anything wrong?"

Logan stared at the bruises. He barely remembered grabbing Scott earlier. He had to think hard to even recall the moment. "I hurt you," he stated flatly as the realization hit him. He swallowed hard. The idea made him sick. He wanted to protect Scott, mind and body. Instead, he'd scared the man and given him bruises. //Not much better than what I rescued him from.// He raked a hand through his hair, trying to think clearly. "Maybe... maybe there is somethin' wrong. But what're we supposed to do about it?"

"I don't know," Scott admitted. He reached out for Logan's hand and clasped it tightly in his own. "I know that it isn't you, and I don't know how far it can go. I just know I want to be careful." Knowing that Logan was willing to not just ignore the problem made him feel a hell of a lot better. "The only thing we know for sure right now is that Loki doesn't want any of us to be on the right track. He's looking for us to fall apart. The best thing we can do right now is not let him win. We stay together as much as we can for as long as we can, and we trust each other even when we really, really don't want to."

Logan pulled Scott close, stroking a hand through the man's hair and sighing quietly. "Alright," he said resolutely, drawing back. "Then I guess I go tell the suit and his pet leather boy that they better lock me up," he said, shaking his head when Scott looked ready to protest. "If Loki's gotten hold o' me enough that I'm willin' to hurt you, I don't wanna be able to. You got a better chance against me than most o' the folks floatin' around here, but... until they straighten me out, I ain't takin' that risk."

Scott absolutely hated the idea. He hated it more than he knew how to say. He hated everything about the thought of Logan being locked up in a SHIELD cell because of Loki. It felt like giving the god what he wanted, but Scott couldn't help but agree that it was the best way to mitigate the potential damage. "Fine, then I'm going with you. They'll want someone to keep an eye on you. I don't have clearance to go out on missions yet anyway until I go through a psych eval. I might as well watch you."

 

Logan nodded, tugging Scott close again and pressing a kiss to his neck. "Think they'll let me have conjugal visits? Not sure I'd be okay missin' out on that until they manage to set me right," he rumbled, pulling Scott close. He knew that he should have gone straight to Coulson, but Scott was right there, and that was damn hard to ignore.

"Think maybe we can spare a few minutes? I mean, just in case they don't?" Scott knew it was stupid to put off taking Logan to see Coulson, but he couldn't resist. If he let the man go without taking and enjoying whatever time they could, Scott suspected he would regret it. Scott dragged the man into a kiss before he could protest. He didn't want to hear a no. "Please?" Scott asked again when they parted, his fingers clutching Logan's hair with sudden desperation.

"Can't say no to that," Logan answered, pressing in for another kiss. Scott was irresistible when he begged. Logan slipped a hand under Scott's shirt, running it up his back before dipping it lower into Scott's jeans and mauling his ass. It felt too good to have the man crushed against him; walking away just wasn't an option. "You're too fuckin' gorgeous, y'know that?"

"You're one to talk. Fuck, you look good. Feel good." Scott had no idea when his self control had gotten so horrific, but there it was. He couldn't have given up touching Logan if he tried. Instead he wriggled out of his shirt and tossed it aside before dragging Logan over to the bed. He sank down to sit at its edge and hurriedly unfastened Logan's fly. The man was already half hard, and Scott gave the head of his cock a long lick before sucking the rest into his mouth.

"Fuck!" Logan gasped. Scott's eagerness was almost overwhelming. Lust-clouded eyes watched his cock disappear into Scott's mouth, and he fisted a hand into his lover's hair for a moment before letting go and resting it on the man's shoulder, willing to let him have control for the moment. "Fuck... feels good," he breathed. "Think... think I'm gonna need you to ride me before we're done here, though." He knew Scott was probably still sore, but if he was going to get locked up for awhile... 

Scott moaned around Logan's cock. He was too turned on to think about the fact that it might hurt. He just knew he needed it as badly as Logan did. Sucking as hard as he could, Scott finally drew back. He didn't want Logan to cum too soon. Scott took the break to divest himself of his pants and find the lube in the drawer of the nightstand. He passed the bottle to Logan. "You wanna do the honors?"

Logan took a moment to shrug off his shirt before drawing Scott closer. Fingers slick with lube lightly brushed along Scott's ass crack, slowly finding their way to the man's entrance. Logan stroked the tight ring of muscle gently, at least trying to be considerate of his lover's well-used state. Taking advantage of the angle and Scott's closeness, Logan nipped and licked at the man's chest, suckling at one pert nipple as one of his fingers sank into Scott's body.

Scott's eyes fell closed, and his back arched against Logan's mouth. It stung a bit being stretched open, but not nearly enough for him to want the man to stop. He pushed his hips back against the contact to illustrate wordlessly just how badly he wanted it. No matter what Loki had done, they'd figure out a way to get through it. Whatever Logan's failings, he was kinder and gentler than he ever wanted anyone to see.

Logan moaned as Scott arched against him. Watching his lover's toned, perfectly muscled body writhe in all the right ways was something Logan couldn't get enough of. His free hand lightly teased Scott's cock, touching and stroking and doing everything he could to make his lover as desperate as possible. "You look so fucking good like this. Love it when you're needy," he growled, nipping roughly at Scott's chest.

Scott have in to the wild, almost frantic action unreservedly. He couldn't explain the desperation as anything but a probably unhealthy response to Logan's upcoming incarceration. Not that it mattered. "I need you." Scott meant it in more than just the immediate sense. He didn't want to go forward into a strange new life alone no matter how codependent that made him.

Logan growled as if in answer, squeezing Scott's shaft a little tighter. He worked to stretch Scott further before finally withdrawing his hand and using it to hook his lover's knee up onto the bed next to Logan's hip. Letting go of Scott's cock, Logan took himself in hand and looked up at his lover with fierce, demanding eyes. "C'mon... Sit on it," he demanded, sounding almost impatient. They were moving fast. Too fast, really. But Logan wanted Scott too much, too immediately to go slow.

Scott knew he should hold back and take more time, but it didn't feel like they had any. Instead he began lowering himself onto Logan's cock as slowly as he could convince himself to move. The burning stretch stole his breath, and Scott's lungs burned when he finally managed a shaky inhale and his body relaxed. At last his hips were flush against Logan's, his fingers clenched against the man's chest.

"Easy," Logan soothed, holding the other man tight against him. He could tell that it was a bit too much. He held Scott still against him, not wanting the man to start moving just yet, not before he'd had a chance to adjust. He took the moment to nip and lick at Scott's throat, to relish the way the man heaved for air and wriggled against him. When Scott tried to move again, Logan grabbed him firmly by the hips and held him down. "Not yet. Just need you to feel me for a second," he murmured.

Scott nodded and let himself breathe through it. He knew Logan was right and let him set the pace. He sat motionless and let his hands soften against Logan's skin. He could feel the strong pulse of the man's heart. His eyes closed, head tipped forward so that his hair fell into his eyes. "You feel so good," he finally managed. Scott knew he was finally ready to move, could feel the relaxation. Slowly smiling, he raised his eyebrows at Logan. "You mind if I stop just sitting here now? I'm good. Honest. We'll go slow."

"Mind?" Logan grinned faintly as he grabbed Scott's hips, holding him away a little so that he could thrust lightly into the other man. "Think I might lose it a little if you don't do somethin' soon," he said, loosening his grip on his lover. His hands stayed in place, though, as if to remind Scott just who was ultimately in charge.

Scott laughed at that and began to move. He didn't mind the commanding grip. There was something thrilling about knowing that Logan could take charge anytime he wanted. Given their situation, Scott knew he should have been scared. He'd always been smart, a survivor, but he couldn't bring himself to be scared. Instead he did his best to keep to his promise of starting off slow even as it drove him crazy not slamming himself down onto Logan and taking everything he could with every thrust.

"That's it," Logan rasped, his hands moving over Scott's sides, mauling the man's ass as his lover moved over him. "God, you feel good... So tight..." After a few moments, Logan reasserted his grip and stilled him once again. He nipped the man's neck, then murmured, "I think we need to change this up a little." He gently guided Scott off his lap, moaning as his cock slipped free. Standing, Logan pressed a hard kiss to the man's full lips, then wordlessly pushed him forward over the bed. Grabbing Scott's hips once more, Logan let his cock come to rest between the man's ass cheeks. "Beg me for it," he rumbled.

Scott had actually heard himself whimper in protest when Logan left him, but he was soon gasping at the commanding tone of Logan's voice. It was a hell of a lot hotter than it should have been, but there it was. His cock throbbed at the bruising grip on his thighs and the feeling of Logan pressing against him, so close and still so far from where he wanted the man to be. "Fuck me! Please, Logan... god, please, fuck me... I need you, please!" Scott couldn't remember ever hearing his voice so ragged, so filled with need. In that moment, he was fairly certain he would have done anything that Logan asked him to just to get more. He felt the briefest flash of clarity and found himself wondering if Logan was the only one who'd had one or two of his internal threads unraveled.

Logan teased for only a moment more before he lost the restraint he needed to do so. With a slight shift, he sheathed himself in his lover once more, grunting his pleasure. His hands tightened on the man's thighs as he withdrew only to slam forward hard once more, seemingly having forgotten his intent to keep things slow and easy. "Fuck, you feel good," he growled as he continued the rough, steady thrusts.

Scott whimpered, his fingers tearing into the comforter. "Fuck, Logan, harder... harder..." It hurt, but it was a good kind of hurt, the kind that would leave hidden bruises that would remind him while they were apart of what he was missing. The kind of bruises he'd never needed or wanted before. Scott relished the way Logan's cock seemed to tear him open with every harsh thrust. He never wanted it to end, but already Scott felt the tremors that meant he'd be cumming any second.

Logan obliged, having completely forgotten - or ceased to care - about his lover's already well-used condition. He drove into Scott mercilessly, relishing the strangled cries of pleasure and moans from his lover, the way the man clawed at the bedding, the way he begged. Logan cried out in utter pleasure, cumming hard and flooding his lover with seed as he gripped Scott tight against him.

Scott screamed Logan's name as he painted the comforter with his cum and spasmed around Logan's cock. He came so hard it almost hurt. As he descended from the height of pleasure, it did hurt, a gnawing ache that didn't make him regret a single second of the coupling. He could think of nothing to say, and Scott's muscles trembled too much for him to want to move, so he lay panting against the bed with Logan slumped against his back.

Logan finally managed to catch his breath and drew away, admiring the bruises already forming on Scott's skin. In the back of his mind, he knew he shouldn't have been enjoying them that much. But the marks made Scott his. The feral mutant sagged to the bed beside his lover, then grabbed Scott by the hair and jerked him into a bruising kiss.

Scott returned the kiss hungrily despite his aching body. "I think," he managed as he finally caught his breath, "you might not be the only one who's compromised." Being into kinky sex was one thing. Being a masochist was another. What Scott felt was a third option that scared him. It made him wonder how much of anything he felt belonged to him and how much was tainted by Loki.

Logan's expression shifted to one of fear, and he pulled Scott closer to him, holding him with protective gentility that belied his aggression the moment before. It was his fault. He knew it was. And now he'd brutalized the man he'd set out to protect, as well as having invited some psychotic alien to muddle with his lover's thoughts. "Maybe... look, you don't know that. Maybe it's just me. I'll go turn myself in and... and you'll be fine, darlin'."

Scott swallowed hard. He didn't want to believe that because it would also mean the safest thing would be to get away from his lover. "We're a fucking mess. Let's just... let's do this." If he let himself get lost in Logan's embrace, Scott wasn't sure his willpower would hold out. He shakily rise from the bed and stumbled into the bathroom to get at least vaguely clean.

Logan nodded, following Scott's lead in cleaning up. He tugged on his clothes, then paused in the doorway. "Sure you wanna come?"

"I..." It struck Scott that soon enough his own erratic behavior could get him locked up. Hating himself for taking the out, Scott admitted, "I should probably stay here. If I stick my hand down your pants in front of Coulson, he'll probably put me in a padded room too."

Logan nodded, but couldn't help quirk a faint smile at the mental scenario Scott conjured. He pulled the man close, giving him a quick peck on the lips, as much as he dared. "I'll be... They'll get it figured out before you know it," he promised, hoping he was telling the truth. He opened his mouth to add something, then stifled it. Dropping dramatic talk of love right before he got himself locked up just seemed more cruel than loving. "I'll make sure they let you know when you can come." He reluctantly let Scott go, straightening his clothes a little better before stepping out into the hallway.

Logan found it tough to keep walking the right direction. He had to fight with himself to keep going. It wasn't like him to want to talk himself out of something. //Definitely somethin' wrong...// he reflected.

Steve very nearly ran smack into Logan as he rounded the corner on his way out. "Hey! Sorry. I volunteered for a food run." Seeing the look on Logan's face, he sobered at once, smile fading. "What's wrong?"

Logan stared blankly at Steve for longer than was remotely decent. His first impulse was to tell Steve exactly what was going on, but something stopped him. Instead of backing out of Steve's personal space, he shook his head. "Just... had a little argument. With Scott," he lied. "He's pretty stressed."

The words explained a lot. No wonder Logan looked like he was having some kind of breakdown. "I'm sorry. I'm sure things will settle down for you two. Things have been crazy even for this place." The spark between them was obvious even just seeing it in passing. Steve had faith in love to overcome a lot worse than times of stress. "Just stick it out." He put a hand on the man's shoulder. "It'll be worth it. As long as you two have known each other, I'm guessing it's not the first time you've disagreed."

"Nah, not at all," Logan said, watching Steve's bright blue eyes closely as his hand rose to cover Steve's. "He found out about us. Wasn't too happy." Logan didn't sound the least bit upset, though, instead edging a little closer to Steve. "I told him it was just fun, but..."

Steve's eyes widened in sudden understanding. "Oh. Oh, I... I'm sorry. That must have been... awkward." Which was precisely what he was feeling at the rather intimate touch and proximity. Steve gently moved Logan's hand away and took a step back. "I'd be happy to talk to him if you think it would help. I mean, I'm with Tony. I'm not looking to get in the way of anything."

"We'll sort it out," Logan said, maneuvering closer once more. He leered at Steve unabashedly, hooking a finger in the man's belt loop as a decidedly abnormal glint of blue flickered across his eyes. "It was fun, y'know? Knowin' I couldn't hurt you. Just doin' what came instinctively..."

Since subtle hadn't worked at all, Steve took another step back, his hands on Logan's shoulders, and created pointed distance between them. "Look, I had a lot of fun the other night, but I'm not looking for a repeat performance. I'm with Tony. Period." Having some fun together was one thing, but when it came to something deeper, Steve wasn't interested in sharing his affections. "I'm sorry if I wasn't clear about that. We should have all sat down and talked about it, and I apologize if there was confusion. I... I need to go get some dinner. Anything I can pick up for you and Scott?" he asked, carefully including the other man's name in the hope of jogging Logan's memory as to who he should really be worried about. The gravity of the man's actions struck him a moment later. Logan doesn't have blue eyes. He'd been avoiding holding eye contact for too long, but Steve suddenly tensed. "Maybe you could use a little rest. I could walk you back to your room. Where were you headed?"

Logan scowled faintly, but didn't push further. A moment later, his head cleared a little. "I was... I was goin' to find Coulson." His eyes, clearer now though still not right, drifted up to Steve's face once again. "Maybe.. maybe you better make sure I get there," he decided. The words felt almost forced as Logan struggled to say them. Whatever Loki had done to him, it was making it difficult to do the right thing.

"I will," Steve agreed solemnly. "I won't let anything happen to either of you." More than anything, Steve hoped he could keep the promise. The elevator dinged, the doors opened, and he took a breath. "Let's go see what we can do to keep you safe too."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Steve felt immediately more at ease when he arrived at Coulson’s suite and saw that Clint was present as well. "I think Logan would like to talk to you."

"Please, come in," Coulson answered, stepping aside to let Logan enter. He had a feeling talking had very little to do with it, but there was no reason not to be polite.

Logan had to fight to keep his head. "I... You gotta... lock me up, Coulson," he grated out, his hand clenching at his side. Adamantium blade tips glinted in the room's lights as Logan wavered between keeping his cool and doing the unthinkable.

Clint didn't need to ask questions. Faster than the eye could follow, he had his bow in hand, deployed, and an acid-tipped arrow nocked and trained on Logan's chest. Clint knew it wouldn't kill the man, but he figured the acid might slow him down if it came to it. "Stand down, Logan," he growled, his gaze flicking to Steve, reassuring himself that the Cap had noticed and was ready to act.

Steve nodded to Clint, both of them ready to do what they needed to do. "Let's all go together, then," he said softly to the man, still carefully keeping his hands to himself. He had a feeling that touching would trigger at the very least a wound that would take awhile to heal and at most a limb needing to be reattached. "You were strong enough to get this far."

"We can make sure you won't be a danger to yourself or others," Coulson agreed. He stood back, out of reach, leaving Clint a clear shot at all times. "You're doing the right thing. If we're compromised, Loki has a better shot at winning - and I don't think any of us wants that."

"Start walking," Clint directed, his voice quiet and level. Any of the anxiety and stress that had shown in him a moment before was gone. This was what he was wired for. This was a situation he knew exactly how to handle. The archer tensed at the grit of metal on metal. "Put 'em away, Logan." A faint twitch, a wrong move on Logan's part, and Clint let the arrow fly, aiming it perfectly between invincible adamantium ribs.

Logan howled in pain as the force of the shot bore him into the wall, lancing him through with acid. He tore at the wound like a wild animal, trying to extract the shaft. The carbon nanotube structure wouldn't give, though, and Logan gasped in pain, compromised lungs gurgling as he struggled to draw breath.

"It won't last long, Cap. Better grab him and get him to lockup," he said, squeezing a series of buttons on his bow's riser to load up another acid round.

"Got it." Steve hefted the man over his shoulder and made a break for it. Logan would metabolize the poison even faster than he could himself if his files were any indication. They didn't have long. Coulson made a break ahead of him and had the elevator primed and ready. A few tense seconds of the four of them crammed into the elevator waiting and they emerged on the detention level. "Cell open. NOW," Steve snapped at the nearest agent.

With Steve, Clint and Coulson all stalking in together, it took no time for them to scramble a secure cell to dump Logan in. "Sir, is he-"

"He'll be fine." Steve shut the door and heard the comforting click of the lock. "Don't open it. I don't care what he says or what happens, unless his life is in danger, you do not open it."

The agent nodded meekly, unused to Steve being anything but friendly and congenial. "Of course, Sir." He opened his mouth, obviously on the verge of asking more, then closed it again.

"I'll take care of the paperwork," Coulson said with a wave of his hand to dismiss the silent concern. "Cap, can you report to Fury? Barton, make sure Summers is okay."

Steve nodded. "I'll come back when I'm done. Jarvis, let Tony know dinner's going to be a little late."

"Of course, Sir. I'll have something ordered in once things are settled."

Had it been any other moment, Steve would have smiled. Thanks to Tony's programming, Jarvis was all but a member of the team himself. He nodded to Coulson and then turned on his heel to check in with Fury. Things were getting a lot more complicated.

 

Clint folded his bow and put it on his back. "Let's hope Summers still has his shit together," he decided, glancing back at Logan before stalking out through the group of confused-looking junior agents. It had to have been a hell of a sight, Clint reflected, them dumping a guy with an arrow sticking out of him into a cell with no obvious intent of providing medical care. //They'll figure it out in a minute.//

Logan had already been regaining consciousness when he'd been thrown into the cell. Standing, he fixed Coulson with eyes glimmering an unmistakably unnatural blue. "You're not gonna find it in time," he taunted, smirking at the agent. "Not before Loki gets there."

"If he does, we'll stop him then." Coulson paused. "Just in case the voices in your head go both ways, I think it's important that he be aware that we don't intend to leave any loose ends this time." He lifted a folder. "I have paperwork to do. Enjoy your stay." Even with his blood pressure skyrocketing, the agent managed an apparently casual smile as he turned and walked out of the room. They needed to find Loki, and they needed to find him fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I have no chill and have almost all the rest of the chapters for Part 1 edited, so you'll have 'em all before long. I keep trying to space them out, but I fail at patience.


	17. Harmless Little Chat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things to very badly when Clint goes to talk to Scott but the team ultimately gets their first win in awhile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter starts out with the world's most dubious of dubcon. Mind control, folks - it's not awesome. Skip that if you need to, but the rest is solid plot. Note that there are now 20 chapters instead of 19 since I broke one of them down a little differently than intended. Either way, we're almost there for part one!

Clint didn't even bother to knock. He'd barely talked himself out of charging in, bow drawn, and demanding Scott prove he wasn't compromised. His eyes swept the room and fixed on Scott. "I'm guessing you know Logan just turned himself in. As well as he was able to, anyway," he said, watching the other man for any signs of aggression.

Scott let out a breath of relief. He wasn't thrilled about having a bow leveled at him, but he wasn't going to protest either. It was probably a good idea. Definitely a good idea. "Good. That's good. I was going to go with him, but it didn't... it didn't necessarily seem like the best plan." Scott looked up and met Clint's gaze. "I'm not going to try to kill you. That I'm aware of anyway. But I do think we should probably talk. There may be one or two things Logan left out of his report."

 

Clint stared hard at the other man for a few moments before lowering the weapon and putting it away. "We kind of figured," he answered, still watching Scott's every move. "Especially after I had to shoot him." Clint perched on one of the kitchen chairs, apparently relaxed. "So, what are we missing?" he wanted to know.

Scott sank back against the couch and tried to get his thoughts in order. With anyone else, the mention of being shot might have worried him. With Logan, it probably had barely slowed the man down. Part of his mind screamed at him not to talk. Worried that it would only get louder, Scott resolutely ignored it. He needed to be straightforward while he still could be. "Loki was here. He did something to me. Logan said he just fixed my injury, the one that kept me from controlling my mutation. With everything that's happening... I have a pretty hard time believing that. I still think I'm myself, but I'm not acting like it. Not entirely." Scott rose and took a few steps closer to Clint. The guy was pretty gorgeous. //Where the hell's that coming from?// "I should have said something sooner."

Clint stood, too, unsure of what Scott's approach meant and not wanting to be taken by surprise. He'd seen what the man's powers could do; he didn't want to get caught off guard. "Loki has a way of getting to people," he allowed, feeling it'd be a little unfair to completely condemn the other man. "Good that you noticed it. You think we should maybe go to medical and get you looked over?"

Scott stopped himself just short of actually moving into Clint's personal space and felt his cheeks flush with heat at the realization. "I... maybe. Yeah." He didn't want to go, didn't want to leave Logan hanging or be stuck getting poked and prodded when he could be of help to the team, but the longer he stood near Clint, the less he was thinking about anything at all. "Wouldn't mind a beer first."

Clint knew he'd been told to stay out of the beer. He also knew that he really could use one at the moment. //Besides, all in the interest of getting him to play along, right?// The archer quirked a faint smile. "Yeah, sounds good," he agreed, oblivious to Scott's internal struggle. He didn't know the man nearly well enough to tell that anything was off. Scott really seemed pretty damned normal, all things considered. Clint wasn't about to completely ignore it if the guy told him something was wrong, but... //No harm in a beer.// "Any in the fridge?"

"Plenty." Scott headed into the kitchen, his arm brushing against Clint's as he passed by. The contact felt electric, and he tried not to dwell. Instead he grabbed two beers and passed one to Clint. "I won't be offended if you don't finish it. Drinking on the job and everything. I just... this has been a pretty terrible... uh, year, actually. A terrible year," he mused, popping the top off on the edge of the counter and taking a healthy swig. Scott leaned back against the counter next to Clint and couldn't help looking the man over. "I'm sorry we haven't gotten a chance to talk much before under less dire circumstances."

//Is he...? Nah.// Scott had been pretty obviously attached to Logan the last time he'd seen them together. He didn't have any reason to believe that the man was about to start playing the field. Not to mention, Logan didn't seem like the kind of guy who liked it when other people touched is stuff. Even in a cell, Clint kind of thought he might find a way to have him killed. "Yeah, kinda been a little crazy around here," Clint agreed, knocking the top off his own bottle before he took a swig. He raised his eyebrows appreciatively. "Good stuff. Might have to finish this. Can't waste good beer like that."

"It would be a sin," Scott agreed with a warm smile. "Feels like the world's gotten turned upside down. I guess that's why it was easier to fall in with Logan. We don't really fit, but I... I know him. It was easier." Scott shrugged and glanced back up at Clint to measure his reaction. "If you take me to the infirmary, I'm going to end up in a cell, right?" He held up a hand before Clint could protest. "I'm going either way. Just level with me. It's probably what I'd do to keep my team safe."

Clint was honestly surprised. He'd gotten the impression that Scott and Logan were actually pretty damn happy together. //Well, not everything's a happy ending,// he reflected. He could certainly relate to falling into bed with someone just for the sake of having some kind of connection. Even a shitty one. He found himself wondering if the bruises Logan had given Scott were really related to the man being compromised. Scott's question jarred Clint back to the present. "I... well, I don't know for sure. Guess it depends on what the docs find. But... I mean, there's a fair shot at it. And Fury... well, he might give the order to put you away even if the docs clear you. Hard to say," he admitted, taking another thoughtful sip of beer.

"Yeah, figured," Scott answered, "but thank you. I appreciate the lack of bullshit." He felt oddly at ease with Clint. Scott suspected that was mostly due to the fact that with the exception of Logan, Clint was the first person he'd been entirely honest with since Loki came to him. "Do you mind if I ask you a very personal and completely inappropriate question?"

Clint paused mid-swig, beer bottle in the air, as his eyes drifted to Scott. He slowly lowered the bottle, wondering what in hell Scott would want to ask him. The archer couldn't think of anything inappropriate that didn't involve... //Well, he is hot as hell.// It wasn't hard to figure out what Logan saw in the guy. But Clint was also pretty aware that if Logan did get released, the man would probably not appreciate hearing - //Woah. Could be something way less weird. Calm down.// "I... uh... sure?" he said uncertainly. "No guarantees on an answer, but you can ask." He offered a faint smile.

"Square deal." Scott laughed quietly and took a long pull off of the beer. "I'm about to go to jail - you know what I mean. I'm getting a last drink. You're cute - I'm pretty sure you know that - and I've heard that you're into guys sometimes, so... I was wondering if you might be interested in having some fun before we go downstairs and I start getting the psych eval to end all psych evals. Because if I have to do that, doing it stone cold sober and sexually frustrated just doesn't sound like fun." Scott could hear the words coming out of his mouth, and he meant them wholeheartedly, but they didn't make sense. He couldn't figure out why they felt like they did. He couldn't figure out exactly why it was a good idea to hit on Clint when he was still aching from his encounter with Logan not an hour before.

Clint was glad he didn't have a mouthful of beer. He was pretty sure he would have sprayed it all over the kitchen if he had. His mind raced. On one hand, Scott was probably a little out of his mind. On the other hand, the guy was hot as hell and seemed pretty damn lucid. //On the other hand, he's out of his fucking mind,// his mind argued again. He swallowed hard and set his beer down on the counter, placing his hands firmly on the surface as if trying to get a grip on reality and himself. "I, uh... y-you sure Logan would be okay with that?" he asked. //Wait, am I actually considering this? Fury might kill me.// He stared at Scott and gave himself a moment to take in the view. //Might be worth it, though.//

Scott shrugged. "He might hate it. He also might not care. I don't mean to sound crude here, but you've been with people where it's just been about chemistry, right? Logan's a lot of fun when he's not homicidal. That doesn't mean I'm suddenly his property." He set his beer down and moved in a little closer to Clint. "Trust me, I'm a grown man who makes his own decisions - especially about who I sleep with." //So why doesn't it feel like I'm the one deciding?//

Clint wasn't a whore. He really wasn't. //Right? Right.// It was just damned near impossible to ignore how close Scott was, and how fucking hot the man was. //So maybe I do get around a little,// he admitted to himself, closing the distance between them. He couldn't really bring himself to care when Scott was so willing. Clint didn't even bother tugging off his archery glove before tangling his hand in Scott's hair and dragging him into a commanding kiss. "Well, when a good, hot fuck falls in my lap, I'm not the kind to pass it up," he breathed.

Scott melted against Clint's muscular body. The leather pulled at his hair, making the discomfort more intense - and by turn the sensation. He groaned and responded with another kiss that left absolutely no doubt of precisely what he wanted. "I hear you know how to take charge. Show me." Scott wondered where exactly he'd heard that, from whom. What kind of rumor mill would he have encountered going nowhere but Logan's bedroom except when his skills were needed to help with field coordination? 

 

Clint nipped at the other man's jaw. The back of his mind screamed at him that there was no reasonable way Scott would have known that, but with Scott's lean-muscled form pressed eagerly against his own, Clint wasn't interested in what seemed like minor details. Stepping back, Clint unfastened his quiver and dropped it on the counter. He didn't bother shedding anything else as he fisted his hand in Scott's shirt and dragged him back to the bedroom. The faintest scent of sex and sweat still lingered, but that just served to fuel Clint's arousal. He certainly appreciated the value of sharing. Clint dragged Scott into another punishing kiss before practically tearing the man's shirt off of him. "You wanna be my bitch? First rule," he shoved Scott to his knees, "you start out where all good little bitches should. Second rule: you don't cum 'til I tell you to." Clint unzipped and presented Scott with his cock. "Suck."

Scott sank to his knees quietly and took Clint Duran to the base. It didn't matter anymore why he wanted the man, just that he did. He wanted to get Clint off, and he wanted to cum again himself until he forgot the man who'd been his lover that morning. The world was hazy and vibrant and confused, and Scott wanted to forget.

"Fuck," Clint hissed, watching his cock disappear down Scott's throat. His hand tightened in Scott's hair, controlling the man's movements, his pace. The archer used Scott's throat for several minutes before finally drawing away, trailing a string of precum over the man's full lower lip. "Leave it," he ordered when Scott looked like he might lick it away. Clint grabbed Scott's chin, watching his blue eyes for several moments before leaning down to kiss away the mess, his tongue thrusting savagely into Scott's mouth in mimicry of what Clint planned to do to the man's body. "Unzip your pants and push them down to your knees," he growled, moving to stand behind Scott.

Scott acquiesced without a moment's hesitation. Scott braced his hands flat on the bed and presented his bare ass to Clint's hungry gaze. "What are you waiting for?" Scott was achingly hard and needed Clint with a hunger that he didn't understand.

Clint slapped Scott's ass hard. "For when I'm good and ready," he growled, admiring the reddening handprint that quickly rose on Scott's skin. He couldn't miss the bruised finger marks on his partner's ass, and he ran his fingers over them. "Hmm... someone really likes it rough," he observed, digging his fingers into the already bruised flesh and dragging Scott back towards him. It probably should have scared the hell out of him or at least made him think twice, but instead it gave Clint a thrill knowing that he was about to lay claim to someone Logan had clearly marked as his own. With a shaky moan, Clint let his cock slide along the crevice of Scott's ass, taking a moment to build a little anticipation. His free hand fumbled for a bottle of lube he’d spotted off to the side, and he gave himself a few strokes with slick fingers.

The contact was thrilling and terrifying at once. Scott's hands were already filled with balled up fabric from the comforter. It was going to hurt, and he knew that before Clint even started. Even if he'd been asking for gentle and slow, it would have hurt. Scott’s heart pounded in his chest, and instead of fear, he felt a sick thrill of exhilaration at the idea of what Clint was about to do. He didn't give any orders, didn't beg, just remained panting and ready and at the mercy of the man behind him.

"Nothing else smart to say, huh? Good boy," Clint purred, grasping his cock for a moment to run the lube-slick fingers teasingly over Scott’s entrance. The muscles were relaxed, and Clint could hear Scott all but panting beneath him. With a slight shift and a hook of his hips, he was pushing into the other man, moaning his pleasure. "God... god, you're tight for such a little whore," he grated, fingers digging into Scott's hips as he pushed forward.

Scott cried out, and even he didn't know if it was pleasure or pain. More than that, he wasn't sure it mattered. He took everything that Clint gave him and pushed back, asking for more. "Need it," he panted against the comforter. His well-fucked ass tightened around Clint, clenching as he thrust in as if to hold him there. Scott felt tears in his eyes, but he still didn't ask for mercy. Instead he did everything he could to incite Clint to move, to keep fucking him.

"Fuck... fuck," Clint growled, surprised and thoroughly turned on by how desperate the man beneath him was. Reaching down, he urged Scott to rise up on his knees and lean back, and Clint looped his arms under Scott's and laced his fingers together behind Scott's neck. Holding him tightly against his body, Clint started thrusting hard. He didn't worry about trying to last, trying to draw it out. Scott obviously wanted rough and hard and fast, and Clint was more than happy to oblige. "Remember," he hissed into Scott's ear, "you don't cum until I say so."

Scott wanted to protest, but he couldn't find the breath to do so. It was probably for the best since otherwise Clint would have just taken it as an excuse to torture him. He settled for moaning helplessly as Clint fucked him. The angle meant that Clint's cock drove hard into his prostate with every thrust, and it was almost impossible not to let go. Scott's toes curled, and his whole body felt like it was on fire with sensation. "C-clint... god, please... please..."

Hearing Scott's shaky pleas was almost too much. "You can... nng... cum when I do," he managed, shivering as his next few thrusts put him over his limit. His hips slammed upward into the other man, his arms pulling Scott down into him as Clint cried out in unbridled pleasure. He bit into Scott's shoulder, stifling his cries as he spilled himself inside Scott's tight body.

Grateful for the silent permission, Scott let go as well. His release spattered out across the rumpled bedclothes as his whole body shook. It was intense in a way he didn't understand. For a moment the whirling need inside him was satisfied, and Scott caught his breath. Oxygen rushed in and then the air left him again. Slowly Scott's head began to feel clearer. By the time Clint finally set him down on the bed, he felt almost like himself. "You need to get me to a cell," he managed in a shaky voice. "Sooner rather than later."

Clint felt the blood leave his face. "What?" he asked, feeling a stab of horror. As Scott turned toward him, he searched the man's face. Scott looked... different somehow. "That... it wasn't you," he realized, feeling his stomach clench. For a beat Clint was sure he was going to vomit. He swallowed hard against the impulse. "Oh, god." //Focus. Stay focused. Get him somewhere safe. For everyone.// "Yeah, alright. Get dressed," he said, darting to the bathroom. He hastily wiped up and zipped his pants. Grabbing a towel, he wet it down and tossed it to Scott. Clint managed to keep his calm exterior, but internally he was wondering at himself. If Scott was compromised, Clint couldn't help but feel like he'd just raped the man. //Just... I can talk this through with a shrink later. Right now... Need to get him contained.// "Look, just don't try to blow me up when I take you downstairs. I can't pull the same trick I did with Logan." Mentioning the man's name made Clint even more nervous, and he tried not to think about it while he waited for Scott to pull himself together.

Scott did his best to clean up and stay focused. He felt like he was losing his mind, and that was even more terrifying because he knew he probably was. He focused in on Clint's words and nodded. "Yeah. I... no, not planning to kill you." Of course, he hadn't been planning to beg the man to fuck him either, and he'd done that too. "Let's just get there." He did his best to keep breathing and not look like he was having a nervous breakdown as they walked into the hall. Scott knew they probably looked as suspicious as he felt, but that would matter later. It didn't matter yet. Later he could worry about the fact that he was already tearing apart what was supposed to be his new life. His body ached, but that was so far down his list of worries that Scott dismissed it entirely. It was a problem he could worry about when his mind wasn't being twisted by a god from another dimension.

Clint nodded warily, but he'd made a point to grab his bow, and he kept it ready. He knew Scott's abilities could tear him in half, and he couldn't help but feel like he deserved it. He escorted the man to the cell block, then hesitated before putting him in a cell. "Uh..." He was pretty confident the cell wouldn't contain Scott if he used his powers. Clint was about to try and jury rig something when one of the agents in the block handed him what looked like an extremely high-tech blindfold with a locking buckle on the back.

"Director Fury said that this might be necessary for him."

Clint glanced at the blindfold, then the agent, wondering just when Fury had commissioned it and how many of the low level agents had any clue what Scott could do. Deciding it didn't matter, Clint held it open and approached Scott. "Just... hold still." He wanted to apologize to the man, beg for forgiveness, but it seemed a little inappropriate.

Just looking at the thing sent a shudder through Scott, but he forced himself to nod, the motion jerky. He knew if he didn't let Clint do it and do it quickly, he wasn't going to let the man do it at all. He closed his eyes and took an uneasy breath. "Go ahead." That Fury had already made preparations to put him into custody should it be needed wasn't exactly surprising. //It's practical,// Scott reminded himself. The blindfold weighed heavily against his face after the freedom he'd been enjoying, and Scott tried not to panic as the door to the cell closed behind Clint. 

"Barton." Phil's voice sounded sharper than he'd intended, but he was barely keeping himself from calling Clint an idiot in front of a half dozen junior agents as it was. "My office. Now."

It was then that Clint remembered the surveillance. He tensed, doing his best to not look like he'd just been caught with a dead body. He'd known Coulson too long to think that that tone of voice was anything but bad news. Shouldering his bow, he did his best to look like it was business as usual as he replied with a terse, "Yes, sir," and followed Phil out of the cell block.

Coulson managed to keep from screaming. Even after his office door shut and he crossed over to sit behind his desk, he didn't scream. "I'll start with the good news: Logan and Summers are both contained. No one was severely injured or killed." He gave Clint a moment to think, just long enough for him to get truly uncomfortable, and then continued, "When it took you longer than fifteen minutes to bring someone from an upper floor to a lower floor, I checked in. I was worried that we might be shampooing pieces of you out of the rug. Instead, as it turns out, you were drinking with and then sleeping with the person you were sent to apprehend. I could try to come up with some elaborate reasons for why that might make sense, but I'd really love to hear you attempt to explain it."

 

Clint gulped, opening his mouth a few times. "I... he... I thought that..." The archer felt himself panicking a little. It was stupid. And it felt even dumber in retrospect. "He seemed like he was alright. Just... upset. He wanted a drink to calm down, and... and then..." Clint ran a hand through his hair, trying to decide if he was more upset by what he'd done or the fact that Phil knew about it. Finally he looked up. "H-how much did you see?"

 

"Too much," Coulson answered. He felt and sounded as tired as he did upset. "He started it. It doesn't matter. When you're on the clock, I expect you to think with the head on your shoulders." For a moment he looked down at his clasped hands. "I wouldn't have expected you to put yourself before a member of the team that way." Looking up again, he met Clint's gaze. "If the tables were turned and Logan did that to Natasha, how would you feel?"

Clint already felt like throwing up. He kept a fairly cool facade, though, until Coulson brought Nat into it. "Goddammit," he snarled, slamming his hand on Phil's desk. "I didn't fucking *know*! He seemed normal! I mean, I get that it was stupid, but how the hell was I supposed to know he was fucking possessed? I..." Running out of steam almost as quickly as he'd built it, Clint sagged into one of Coulson's chairs and ran a hand over his face, looking shell-shocked. "I didn't want..."

Strangely the outburst seemed to calm Coulson rather than upset him. He breathed a soft sigh of relief. "Good." The idea that Clint could have had the slightest inkling of what was going on and still gone through with it had made him furious and sick. "Good," he repeated almost to himself. Seeing the look of incredulity on Clint's face, he shook his head. "I needed to know. I needed to know that you didn't know." He braced his arms on the desk and rubbed at his temples to soothe away some of the tension for a moment. "Right now we keep them contained, and we proceed with trying to find Loki. Once we do, we make sure he doesn't get what he wants, and we try to negotiate a fix for Summers and Logan and Natasha. You should know that Director Fury is recommending we secure her as well until we're sure about her state of mind. I was going to take care of it, but I thought you might want to come along."

Clint frowned. "She's..." His own missteps forgotten for a moment, Clint shook his head. "Phil, she's sick. She's in so much pain she can't even move. Does she really need to go in a cell?" He knew the answer. He just hated to think of Nat going from one cell to another. 

"I wish she didn't," Coulson answered honestly. He hated the thought of it too, the idea of putting the woman into bondage when she was already so bad off. "In this case, I think the director has a point. We didn't know that Logan or Summers were so far gone until it was almost too late. Realistically, even hurt Natasha could do a lot of damage before we could contain her if it came down to that. Right now, I want to put it to her. I think I know what she'll want."

Clint nodded, still shaken. Too much was coming apart too fast. He'd fucked up in a way he wasn't sure he could even make up for, and now Nat might be in the same boat he'd been in. Then another thought occurred to him. "You don't think..." His voice broke and he cleared his throat, genuine fear in his eyes when he looked at Coulson again. "You don't think that this... whatever it is... is contagious, do you?" The idea that it might happen again, that he might lose himself again, was utterly terrifying. 

The thought had occurred to Coulson too, and he hated it. He hated it with every fiber of his being. "I hope not. Right now we're working on the assumption that only those who have had direct contact with Loki somehow are affected, but it... obviously, it's just a working theory." It was a way to keep from having a breakdown while they figured it all out. "I'll watch you. If something seems wrong, we'll deal it," he assured before rising again. "Let's go talk to Natasha."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

"It would be stupid not to," Natasha answered simply after it had all been laid out for her. Logan and Scott were falling apart, and she didn't want to do the same. "Something tells me it won't hurt more or less whether I'm in a cell or out of one." Behind her eyes the pressure swelled and ebbed, sometimes too much for her to bear and sometimes a mild throb at the back of her mind. "And I'll be safer - you'll be safer - if I'm in one."

Clint frowned, clearly hating the idea. He reached out and grabbed Nat's hand, holding onto her, hoping he could reassure her a little. "I'll get him this time, Nat. For good." It had been jarring being compromised the first time. This time, he'd been manipulated into doing things he'd never have considered. He wasn't sure which was worse. He knew he wasn't going to tolerate Loki messing with his friends any further. 

"I know," she answered firmly, her eyes locked with Clint's. "If anyone can, it's the Avengers." The team was fragmented and messy, but Natasha still had faith in them. She'd seen them come together from nothing, and she'd seen them come out more or less intact. Healing could come after the mission. Slowly she sat up, head spinning with the movement. "Let's get this done."

Coulson nodded and offered Natasha a hand while she continued to hold onto Clint's. They walked silently down the halls with Natasha alternately putting her weight on one or the other of the men as the dizziness and pain came and went. He could see in the set of her jaw that she was determined to make the trip on her own power no matter how much it hurt. "We'll have a medical team on standby at all times."

"And they won't be able to do anything. We both know this isn't in my body."

The uncomfortable truth hung in the air until Coulson spoke a few orders to a waiting agent. The man looked startled but unlocked a cell for them just the same. Phil gave Natasha's hand a final squeeze as she stepped into the cell. "We'll both be here. I'll keep you in the loop as much as we're able to."

Natasha nodded. "Not too much. I don't feel crazy, but I wouldn't expect to. If Loki can learn anything through me... I don't want him to. Let's not give him more advantages than he has already."

Clint hated it. Nat didn't even fight being imprisoned the way Logan and Scott had. "Call if you need anything," he said. He fixed his gaze on Phil. "We need to figure out what the next step is."

"Let's go talk to Director Fury." He was tired of waiting. Things were spiraling out of control, and soon they'd be down to base SHIELD agents for the mission. Without the Avengers and with the aid of the X-Men precarious at best, Coulson wasn't willing to take that chance. That wasn't how they would beat Loki. He waved off the secretary's attempt to call Fury and knocked directly on the man's door instead. When it opened, Coulson nodded a quick greeting. "Director, I think we need to move on this. Now."

Fury stared back and finally stepped aside to let the men into his office. "We have a potential target," he admitted, still watching the men warily. "But it's potential. The only info we really have comes from a man who's losing his damn mind."

"He was lucid at-"

"I don't care what he seemed like," Fury countered, hands flat on his desk. "He was compromised."

"Sir, what about Thor?"

"What about Thor?"

Clint rolled his eyes in frustration. "How about where the fuck is he, for starters? What aren't you telling us?" Clint growled, at the end of his patience and deference to authority.

Fury quirked the faintest, briefest hint of a smile. That was why he kept Clint around. The man would typically do what he was told, but wasn't afraid to overstep his bounds a little if pushed. "Barton, I don't know for a fact that you aren't one of Loki's flunkies right now, either. I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt because, frankly, I'm running out of prison cells, and it's apparently not safe for me to throw you in with one of the others," he said, giving Clint a pointed look. "And whatever you know, Loki might also know, so Thor's whereabouts are staying my business until you need to know about them."

The archer subsided and flicked a glance at Coulson, wondering if the Agent had reported him or if Fury had found out on his own. "Fine. But then what the hell do we do next? Rogers, Banner, and the two of us are about all we have left. Maybe some of the X-Men if any are willing to help and aren’t already tangled up in their own shit. I feel like continuing to wait is just going to lose more people. Loki's managed to decimate the team worse than last time."

Fury settled back in his chair, then shoved a folder that had been sitting next to his elbow toward Coulson. "Sounds like it's time to clean out the Fridge," he said.

Clint glanced at Coulson curiously, completely oblivious to the Director's meaning.

Coulson took the file and opened it, scanning the contents before nodding. "Understood, sir. Is Agent Barton cleared to come with me?"

Fury gave the agent a once over. "Keep an eye out, but yes. For now."

"I want you ready to go in half an hour," Coulson said, his gaze locked on Clint's. "I'll get Banner and Captain Rogers. Put a quick call in to Xavier's. If they have anyone willing and available, give them these coordinates." He rattled the numbers off, made Clint repeat them back, and then headed out to do his part of the round up. The sooner they were in the air, the sooner the mission would be done.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Steve sagged back in his seat as they took off. They'd enlisted a compatriot of Coulson's, Melinda May, to take the helm of the plane. She was curt, cold, and distant. From what he heard, she was also absolutely fantastic at her job. He hated leaving without Tony especially with Nat and Logan and Scott all locked up like criminals for something beyond their control. "Any word from the X-Men?" he asked Clint to distract himself from the idea that they'd have nothing to do until they landed.

Clint nodded. "They promised one or two people. I guess they've got their own wings to get them there." He glanced at Phil, wondering where exactly 'there' was. He also gave their new pilot a hard stare; she wasn't familiar, but Coulson apparently trusted her. Clint had gotten pretty accustomed to agents he'd never met before turning up at odd places. He still remembered when he'd found out a barista he'd been hitting on rather heavily turned out to be a coworker.

"The X-Jet." Bruce shrugged when Clint looked at him questioningly. "You didn't read the file? Do you ever read the file?"

"When it tells me where to shoot a target."

Bruce sighed, glancing back to Steve in obvious hopes of finding someone to share his frustration.

Steve shared a smile and a shrug of his shoulders with Bruce. It was hopeless to think that Clint would ever catch up on his own. The man relied almost entirely on Coulson to distill whatever they learned to him. Which, Steve supposed, was fine so long as Coulson was with them. "Agent May, it's good to have a chance to work with you."

The woman glanced back long enough to nod. "You too, Captain," she answered in a monotone before putting her eyes back on the horizon.

"She's... focused," Coulson explained with a faint smile. May wasn't what anyone would consider a people person, but she was also one of the rare people he trusted implicitly. "It's good to hear we'll have some additional back up. Whether we find Loki there or not, I'd rather have a few extra pairs of eyes covering our collective asses."

 

"Besides which, even just one of them is like having an entire army with you, from what I've read."

Clint glanced sidelong at Bruce. "Isn't that kind of your thing?"

"I'd be happy to step aside," Bruce said with his infinitely patient smile.

"Anyone ever tell you that you look like you're going to snap any second when you smile like that?"

Bruce snorted softly and looked away. "Anyone ever mention that you have only slightly more of a sense of self-preservation than Tony?"

"Not in so many words, but yeah," Clint said, double-checking his weapons for want of something to do.

"I personally think they're both tempting fate anytime they speak," Steve pointed out to Bruce. And yet he missed Tony's snarky comments almost desperately. It was strange going into the fray with only half the team. It was disquieting at best.

May's voice broke through his reverie, "Almost there. Another five minutes. Be ready to land." 

They'd agreed that in case Magneto did happen to be there with Loki, it was best that no one remain trapped on the plane. Though she'd protested that she wasn't interested in combat detail, May had ultimately agreed to land them and come in with the team anyway. Coulson was glad of it. If it came to a fight, she would be a smooth addition in Natasha's absence. "Understood. We all ready to go?"

Clint was already on his feet and hanging onto the rigger's railing when the plane came to a flawless landing. Having already been warned of the cold, he'd donned his rarely used tunic, but when he stepped out of the plane, he still gasped like he'd been punched. "Jesus, it's cold," he grated, glancing back at Bruce as the scientist tugged on a bomber's jacket and followed him out without batting an eyelash.

Bruce smirked. "Kinda refreshing."

Clint scowled, then nearly jumped through himself when another plane seemed to materialize out of nowhere a few hundred feet away and came to a landing nearby. He already had bow and arrow in hand when Bruce's hand landed on his shoulder.

"That's our backup. Try not to offend them."

"Oh, you missed that act already," a gently amused voice.

Having just started to relax, Clint tensed again as he looked up to see a pair of odd-looking people approaching from the other plane. "What the hell is that?"

Hank, ever difficult to offend, laughed heartily. "I am Henry McCoy. You can call me Hank. Or Beast," he said, offering a hand.

Looking dazed and fascinated all at once, Clint offered his hand, looking for all the world like he was shaking hands with a real, live unicorn. "I... Uh... Barton. Hawkeye. Either way."

"I believe it's actually Doctor McCoy, isn't it?" Bruce extended a hand as well, then bumped shoulders with Clint and grinned a little. "I figured after working with me, he'd seem pretty cuddly."

"He's like a big blue teddy bear," a voice agreed from over Hank's shoulder. Holding out a hand, the young man smiled. "Bobby Drake, otherwise known as Iceman." He shook Bruce's hand, then did the round of introductions with the group at large. "I'm sorry we couldn't spare more people. Things have been messy all over."

"Probably Loki's influence." Coulson had noticed an upswing in crime in general, and he was beginning to have a sinking feeling about how many people Loki might have visited throughout the world. "We appreciate you coming."

Bobby turned his gaze to the building and looked it over. It looked for all the world like a standard bunker. "I'm guessing it's bigger on the inside."

Coulson smirked at the reference. "That it is." He led the group over. A retinal scan, thumbprint recognition, and a few codes later they were inside. It was marginally warmer, and Coulson shed his coat onto a rack just inside. It was an oddly homey touch in the otherwise sterile building. "Might as well get comfortable. It may take awhile to go through all of this."

"So it's just weapons storage in here?" Bobby scanned the area around them and found nothing amiss. The only sounds were their footfalls.

Coulson hesitated and then shook his head. He caught May's eye and shrugged. "No, it isn't. There are weapons, salvaged tech, and... and a few prisoners deemed too dangerous for-" Coulson paused and put a code into a pad on the wall, "for release. Just letting the guards know we're friendly," he explained with a nod to the number pad. "Otherwise they'd be up here in about ten seconds with guns at the ready. I'd like to leave with the same number of holes in my body I have currently."

Coulson met Hank's gaze and offered, "There are people even SHIELD isn't sure how to deal with. This is where they usually end up. It's... safer. More secure." He didn't bother to say whether it was safer for the prisoners or the world. "The armory's this way. If the hammer's here, that's where it will be." 

When the door opened, Steve found himself face to face with shelves of weapons and technology that made the usual SHIELD store rooms like like child's play. "And we're supposed to find it in here?"

"If it's here," Coulson agreed with a rueful smile. 

"Right. Fan out, let's get looking. Since the place is still standing, we must've beat Loki here, which hopefully means we get first crack at finding the hammer." Steve gave everyone a beat to make sure they were on the same page and then started for the nearest shelf. "Let's do this."

"You certainly have a way of making a simple search sound rather... grand," Hank observed, tugging at one of the taller shelves to check its stability before he hoisted himself to the top. "I'll start up here."

Bruce, hands still in his pockets as he moved to another row of shelves, started looking through the massive collection. "I think I saw this place on an episode of Hoarders."

Clint smirked, raising an eyebrow when May walked behind him. "You think your soul's in here anywhere?" he asked, rummaging through a collection of jars and grimacing at some of their contents. The woman reminded him uncomfortably of Natasha when they'd first met. 

"No. I keep it in a far more secure location," May responded without batting an eyelash. 

One would think a large, mystical hammer would stand out. The sheer volume of things crammed into the warehouse meant precisely the opposite. Steve squinted at the shelves, the fluorescent light only dimly illuminating the backs of each one. "It's like the world's least organized library."

"Except all the books can kill you," Bobby piped up, lifting a strange-looking thing he suspected was some kind of gun. "Probably. I'm not even sure what half this stuff is."

"No one is." Coulson moved to the next shelf in line and began scanning the contents. "Some of it's here because it's potentially too dangerous to even test out. The rest has been tested and deemed... inadvisable for use."

That was putting it very gently, Steve knew. Overhead, the room came to life. Saxons blared and red lights began flashing in warning. "Looks like we're not alone anymore."

"This is where it gets fun." Bobby quickly iced the door they'd come in through shut. "Should buy us a second or two. Let's see if we can find the hammer before they find us."

"So that's what you do," Clint muttered, looking with renewed vigor. "I was wondering."

"You should try his margaritas," Hank chimed in jovially, still casually searching through all the bits and bobs. "Agent Coulson, you should probably talk to SHIELD about their cataloging system. Rather messy."

Bruce looked significantly less comfortable. "Guys, I don't think there's enough room in here for the big guy, if you get my drift."

"Yeah," Clint agreed, tensing and grunting as he heard the muffled "whump!" of an explosion outside the door and a few pieces of ceiling rained down around them. Hulk accidentally arming a nuclear warhead wouldn’t help their situation. He kept rummaging, now with far less concern as to whether a few doodads ended up on the floor. Another explosion, sounding closer, rattled the shelves, and Clint grunted as a jar bounced off the back of his head, knocking him to the floor. With a groan, he pushed himself up on hands and knees, then froze as he noticed a disconcerting glint at the back of the shelf he was now peering at. "Coulson, I think we found it." He started to reach for it, then hesitated as he felt the hairs on his forearm stand on end. "Seems kinda weird," he muttered, finally forcing himself to grab the handle of the hammer and drag it off the shelf. For its size, the weapon felt bizarrely light in his hand.

Before Coulson had a chance to warn Clint to get his hands the hell off of the hammer, the door exploded inward. He was slammed back into a shelf only to be righted by Steve's hand on his shoulder a beat later. "I'm fine." He looked around, trying to spot Bruce. Of all of them, he could do the most damage - which was a good and a bad thing. 

Bobby did his best to lay down a trail of ice that might at least make the trip into the room less pleasant for their attackers, but his hopes were dashed when he spotted a familiar face in the doorway. It still cut deep to think that John was willing to fight the people he'd been so close to. Not the time for interpersonal drama, he reminded himself forcefully even as Pyro blithely melted away the quick protection. 

Hank, deciding that Steve had Mystique handled for the moment, swooped in to give Pyro a nudge toward a patch of ice he hadn't quite gotten to, hoping to send him sliding and give Bobby a chance to gain ground against him. 

In the absence of an eyeline on Bruce and with Steve stalking toward Mystique, Coulson grabbed a particularly threatening-looking gun from the shelf and moved in closer to Clint. "You should probably not touch that more than you have to. We don't know what it does, just that it’s bad. Which is not the kind of specific I like."

"Not leaving it laying around for them to pick up," Clint countered, grabbing a carabiner clip and securing the hammer to his belt, the weight oddly reassuring as he drew his bow. He glanced at the weapon Coulson was holding, raising an eyebrow. "Not sure you should play with that," he remarked, ducking just in time as something went flying through the space where his head had been. Straightening, he felt his blood run cold as he realized who he'd just dodged. "Claws. Huge. You must be Logan's brother," he deadpanned before firing an arrow straight into Creed's chest. 

The feral mutant barely seemed to hesitate, grabbing the arrow and ripping it - barbed tip and all - right back out. "You must be the idiot I'm about to kill. Seriously, who brings a bow to a gunfight?" he chuckled, a trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth. Victor dodged another arrow, though it still lodged in his shoulder. He smirked at first, then his eyes widened as burning pain began to spread from the wound.

"Acid round. Logan didn't like it much, either," Clint said, looking a little too satisfied with himself. Glancing at Phil, he muttered, "Might wanna shoot him for good measure..."

It took half a second to figure out how to arm the weapon, but that thankfully wasn't quite enough for Creed to recover himself. What looked like a ball of dark energy slammed flat into the feral mutant's chest. The recoil alone was enough to make Coulson stagger back. 

Bruce, meanwhile, had sequestered himself carefully behind an overturned shelf. While hiding was hardly what he'd have preferred, he was fairly certain that being boxed in with a mix of friend and foe would end poorly for everyone but him.

Letting everyone else take the first hits really just made sense. Loki strode in as Pyro careened off his feet and came back up, spitting mad and looking slightly ridiculous. Powerful as Magneto's companions were, few of them seemed to have much grace. He caught sight of Mystique ducking a roundhouse punch and couldn't help smile. She was a rather striking departure from that rule. "Ah... Hawkeye. It's been far too long. I believe you have something of mine."

"Not yours, and you aren't taking it."

"Again I am forced to wonder why it is you're not dead," Loki returned, not even bothering to look at Coulson. He only had eyes for the hammer. "That was forged by my people - my true people - and it would be a very good time for you to return it."

"Not gonna happen."

Loki smiled coldly. "Oh, but I think it is."

 

"Finders keepers." Clint met Loki's gaze, jaw clenched, much like his gut. He still remembered the last time he'd confronted the god. "The only thing I owe you is a slow, painful death," the archer growled. Subconsciously, he placed himself between Coulson and Loki as he drew down on the god. "You've fucked with me, my friends, my allies... If you think you're getting off this planet intact, you've got another thought coming." He smirked. "And, if I don't do the trick, don't forget... we have a Hulk."

"Somewhere," Hank muttered under his breath, clinging to the top of another shelf as he watched in fascination. Hearing Steve grunt, he leapt for that particular fray. "Good Captain, may I be of assistance?" he asked, lunging for the absurdly fast and flexible mutant Steve found himself pitted against.

"Much appreciated, Dr. McCoy," Steve agreed, gritting his teeth as he rose to his knees and tossed his shield toward Pyro, who was steadily advancing on Bobby again. The Brotherhood was definitely dangerous. Steve was beginning to think he didn't care much for Loki's new friends. Speaking of which... He tensed at the sight of Loki squaring off with Clint and Coulson. "Beast, keep our lady friend occupied." He hated to leave the man who'd sprung to his rescue, but Loki was a lot more of a wildcard than even the mutants.

"Of course you do, Mr. Barton. Where is he again?" Loki smiled coldly and stepped to the side just in time to avoid a second barrage from the strange gun Coulson had found. "And here I thought you'd learned your lesson about playing with toys you don't understand." He drew himself up to full height and peered at Barton. "Tell me, how is Ms. Romanov recuperating? I had hoped she would be so much more acquiescent..." Taking a step closer, Loki held up his newly forged staff for Clint to see. "Would you like to learn what this one does?"

Clint had to fight to breathe evenly, to keep his hands steady. "No," he replied, voice faintly ragged but otherwise level. He loosed his arrow, only to feel his heart sink as it disappeared into thin air inches from Loki's face. Something inside him itched to grab the hammer at his belt and swing it at the god's smug face, but he ignored it. //Bruce, where the hell are you?// With Loki in play, they were well beyond worrying about property damage or a few broken bones. He felt helpless to protect Coulson and defenseless against whatever Loki was threatening them with. 

When Mystique made to pursue Steve, Hank caught her by the ankle and tugged her back towards him. "Now, Raven," he chided, "I think he might be a tad young for you."

Mystique glared at the blue-furred mutant and was drawing her other leg back to kick him in the face when it was suddenly caught in a tight grip. She looked up to see May gazing back impassively. "Who the hell are you?"

"A friend - just not your friend." May brought her heel down toward Mystique's face, but the woman twisted her body and pulled Hank half off of the floor. She managed to take May off her feet at the same time, though the woman recovered well. 

Steve retrieved his shield and impulsively threw it at Loki, who was getting closer than was comfortable to Clint. Coulson had thrown aside his borrowed gun, and Steve suspected the long, improper storage had done nothing for whatever it ran on. The distraction proved exactly as ineffectual as he'd suspected. It took little more than a gesture for Loki to send the shield careening off into the shelves instead, but at least he looked away from Phil and Clint and over to him. "Miss me?"

"Not in the slightest," Loki grated.

Hank quickly recovered, grateful for May's help, and not just a little impressed at her level-headedness, considering their circumstances. "I-" The racket of Steve's shield clattering through the shelves distracted him, and his eyes widened at the blur of motion that followed.

Clint had possessed razor-sharp reflexes and peak human speed since his mid teens. He'd trained for years to hone every muscle and bone in his body for battle. None of that explained the bizarre strength and agility with which he leapt at the distracted god, obsidian-black hammer in hand, and swung at Loki's ribs as his bow clattered to the floor in the place he'd stood a moment before.

Loki didn't have time to turn fully before the blow caught him. It hit with crushing force, and the god crumpled to the floor, clutching his side. He found his feet quickly. Pain was becoming far more common than it had once been for him. Loki's eyes flashed with anger. "How DARE you use that hammer against its rightful owner!" He leveled his staff at Clint and channeled every bit of anger he felt into the power that fed it. 

In the commotion, Coulson had managed to get to the shelves. He grabbed Steve's shield, flinging it in the man's general direction and knowing it would be caught or retrieved shortly. He wasn't a coward, but he wasn't stupid either. As probably the most physically fragile person present, giving himself as a target to Loki a second time would be an unforgivable distraction for the team. He caught sight of Bruce huddled in the corner and doing what looked to be deep breathing exercises. "We need you in there. This isn't a lot of space, but we've got Asgardian weapons in play now. Clint has one, and I don't know if he can handle it. We need to contain this."

Clint saw the weapon charging and knew he had no way of evading it. Curling into a ball, he tried to shield himself against the energy that surged towards him. Dark lightning flickered and crackled around him, and Clint remained frozen in terror, waiting for... something. Whatever horrible thing this new staff would do to him... didn't come. Looking up, Clint realized with a shock that the hammer was producing a sort of energy shield against Loki's attack.

Bruce, his pulse rate already through the roof, gave Phil a slow nod. The man was right. Letting go, the scientist flung himself toward Loki as his alter ego took hold. He lunged for the god, swatting him with one broad, green palm into the nearest rack of shelving, sending jars and weapons and other oddities flying.

Hank, mindful of the potential for damage such things represented, moved to crouch near Coulson. "Agent Coulson, perhaps I'm overthinking this, but... is it really wise to have him... smash things in here?" he asked with the same level calm as someone asking 'one lump or two?'

"Shit!" Clint nearly got trampled in the fracas, but his strangely acute reflexes saved him once more. He rolled out of the way, collecting his bow even as he dodged a massive green foot. "Goddammit, Bruce!" Clipping the hammer back to his belt, Clint managed to fire a few arrows at Loki, but Bruce was doing a good enough job of flinging the god around to make him a hard target, even for Clint.

"No," Coulson answered, "it isn't. It also isn't wise for Clint to be holding that hammer. We're in what could be nicely described as the middle of a shitstorm right now." He rose. "Everyone who doesn't like being roadkill? OUT."

Mystique wasn't in the habit of taking orders from people who were on the other side, but given the havoc the Hulk was wreaking and the sort of things SHIELD kept in the room... "Victor, peel yourself off the floor and follow us. No one's going to carry you." She didn't bother saying anything at all to Pyro. Allerdyce was on his own. She still wondered why Magneto kept the boy around most days. He could barely even hold his own against Bobby Drake, and John should have known the boy's every move.

May considered dragging the fight out, but she could see the wisdom of retreat as well. "Barton," she snapped when Clint wasn't immediately in line to exit the room. 

Though Steve lingered, it wasn't out of any sense of defiance. He knew he could take a hit from Bruce better than most, and he wasn't about to leave the room until it was cleared as best he could make it. "Keep Loki down," he shouted to Hulk. Steve was never sure exactly how much filtered through, but at least some shred of Bruce always seemed to remain - enough that only Thor had thus far been on the man's bad side in his alternate form. Carefully he put himself between Hulk, Loki and Hank and Phil. "Gentlemen, now's the time."

Confident that he could likely move more nimbly and safely than his erstwhile companion, Hank grabbed Phil by the waist and leapt for some of the farther shelves, circumnavigating the chaos towards the center of the room and conveying them both out the door. 

Apparently aware enough to realize that everyone was safely out of the room, Hulk flung Loki to the far end, then roughly scooped Steve up and charged out with barely enough clearance for him to move through the hallway. As the group retreated, Banner managed to calm himself back into a normal person.

Noting that they were retreating with a few would-be enemies in their midst, Clint glanced at Mystique. "So, this is awkward. Us all retreating in the same direction," he noted, keeping out of arms reach of her. Not that he had any delusions he'd be able to out maneuver her, anyway. She was easily faster than Nat, and apparently strong enough to give Steve a run for his money. "You'd be cute if you didn't want to kill me."

"Mr. Barton, I think it best you find other ways of flirting with danger," Hank suggested, glancing back as a series of explosions rattled the walls. He glanced at Coulson. "This structure is solid, I hope?"

"It was before the exploding started," Coulson agreed. "It should hold." He hoped it would. The idea of the guards having to let out the prisoners housed there - or, almost worse, NOT let them out - left him feeling more than uneasy. 

"Listen to the doctor, Legolas," Mystique snapped. She'd agreed to help Loki because Magneto had, but she'd never pledged her life to the man's cause and had no intention of doing so. 

Steve hit the door a beat before the rest of them and kept an eye out while the others scurried away, the Brotherhood members breaking one way while most of them took another. He caught Bobby staring after them. "Whatever it is, it can wait," Steve assured him.

Bobby snapped out of it, nodding. "Right."

"Have a safe flight home!"

"You too!" Even being back on the plane didn't make Steve feel much better. He couldn't help looking with suspicion at the hammer still clutched in Clint's hand. "You should put that down," he finally said softly.

Clint tensed at the suggestion. "It saved my life," he snapped reflexively, then froze. //That wasn't me.// Shaking faintly, he put the weapon down on the floor of the plane between his feet. His hand tingled as he forcibly let it go, and he rubbed his hand on his pant leg as if trying to rid himself of the feeling.

Bruce watched the whole thing closely. "It did do that," he agreed, staring uncertainly at the hammer before glancing at Coulson and Steve. "But you guys tell me I'm not the only one that caught Barton's whole Neo act back there."

"Adrenaline," Clint replied dismissively.

"Never seen adrenaline do that before."

"Seen it do a lot worse," Clint shot back.

"No you haven't," Coulson answered calmly. He felt anything but. Coming so close to Barton being lost to something from Asgard again filled him with the closest thing he'd felt to panic in a long while. "Limited contact with this thing. We get it inside and we get it to the science team. Dr. Banner, you're welcome to accompany it down... but don't touch it. No skin on skin if we can help it from anyone."

Steve's gaze trailed down to the hammer. It had saved Clint. It could save them all. He shuddered to think of what it might have done in Loki's hands. "He's not going to give up on having it this easily."

"No, he isn't." Coulson stared down at the hammer. "It repulsed his staff, the energy he was using. The magic." Using the word as a part of reality still threw him for a loop even after everything. "If we figure out how, it might help Logan and Summers and Natasha. We might be able to use it."

"Maybe we could use a similar channeling technology as the Hydra weapons did. I'd need to talk it over with Tony, though. I'll need his input. He'll be up to helping, won't he?" Bruce asked Steve.

Clint couldn't help feeling uneasy with the three of them talking about locking the hammer away. He lightly flicked the leather strap at the end of the handle while the other three were focused on their conversation. The powerful tingle radiating from it was tempting, though still a bit unsettling. Tony had called the weapon evil, but how could something that had saved his life, could save their teammates, be evil? "It might not be safe in the lab. Maybe someone should guard it..." he murmured.

Instinct overrode reserve and Coulson reached for Clint's hand and drew it away. He held on just a second longer than was appropriate before dropping it again. "Don't. You know we'll have guards present. You won't be one of them."

Steve was watching both of them closely and carefully interjected, "I think it's best that anyone we have guarding it be changed out pretty regularly. Same for the people working with it. If it's this powerful, we shouldn't take chances. The team's thin enough, Barton. I need you on reserve, not guard duty." He looked back to Bruce. "Tony's always up for talking... and working more than he should. Just help me keep an eye out for when he needs to stop and rest, okay? He won't do it on his own."

Coulson barely resisted the urge to kick the hammer as far away from Clint as he could. It would've been childish, though possibly not an overreaction. Hoping to make up for the probably unwanted contact before, he whispered softly to Clint, "I can't risk losing you again. This thing? It scares me. We both know not a lot of things scare me."

Clint's expression of anger softened at Coulson's confession. He glanced at the hammer again, felt the strange tug. It was with all his might that he put a foot on the artifact and shoved it to the other side of the plane, into a corner under the benches. With the weapon well away from him, he felt like something had let go of him, and he started breathing again. //Didn't realize I was holding my breath,// he thought, then looked back up to Coulson gratefully. "Yeah," he agreed shakily, keeping his voice low. With the hammer well away from him, it was clear just how close he'd gotten to once again losing himself. "You're not the only one who's scared. That thing... I don't think 'evil' begins to cover it."

Bruce, meanwhile, nodded his agreement with Steve. "I can at least throw the flag if he starts overdoing it. But I might have to call you in to get him to settle down. I have to confess, I have absolutely no control over him," he said, remembering his attempts to convince Tony he needed sleep when they'd been working on Loki's staff. The man had been borderline delirious and still refused to even sit down for a few minutes. Hearing the loud scrape of metal on metal, he looked up to see Clint pushing the hammer away from himself. Seeing how shaken the archer looked, Bruce shook his head. "Yeah, I'm not touching that thing. I have a feeling it wouldn't mix well with my other half. I'd say use gloves, but I don't think it works that way." He didn't dare say it out loud, but he had a feeling that if anyone had to handle the artifact for scientific purposes, it'd have to be Tony. //Steve won't like that.//

"I'd rather not have anybody near it enough to find out," Steve answered. "As for having any control over Tony... well, I can't say I've got that, but I've got a, uh, little influence now. Hopefully enough to get him to take a few breaks every now and then." He was fairly buzzing with the need to be home, to check on Tony and make sure his lover was okay and resting properly. Steve honestly loved his job, but he honestly didn't love it interfering with what felt like far more important things.

Bruce smirked and shook his head at the idea of anyone really trying to contain Tony. The man had even managed to give Coulson the slip once, and Bruce had a feeling that was a task not easily accomplished. "Well, maybe you could at least hold him down for a little while if he gets overtaxed," he decided, leaning back in his seat a little. The further they got from the Fridge, the more comfortable he felt. Hopefully, Loki had left once the source of his interest was gone, hadn't harassed any guards or prisoners.

Having some space between them and the hammer felt better. Coulson let himself relax and tried not to hiss with pain as his bruised back came into firmer contact with the seat. It would be a few days before the ache subsided, but getting thrown around a little was a small price to pay. He wished they'd been able to secure Loki, but until they found a way to knock him out without using the hammer, they didn't have a secure way to transport him. Not one that Coulson was interested in risking without Thor. //Where the hell is Thor?// It irked him that they were chasing Loki and trying to protect the earth from the god's brother without any assistance from him. It irked him and it worried him. Being cavalier about the safety of his girlfriend's planet wasn't really Thor's style. "For tonight I think we all need a long, hot shower and a good night's sleep. Tomorrow we regroup."

Clint hadn't missed Coulson wincing, and his brow furrowed as he watched the agent gingerly settle back into his seat. "Sleep'd be good. I need to catch up," he decided, watching Coulson carefully. "You might want to swing by medical while you're at it." The archer was starting to feel the aches of his own injuries, but most were superficial. A few small nicks over his eyebrow and on his cheek from broken glass, and a few not so small bruises. Realizing his own injuries drew his attention to some of the more visible bumps and bruises on Coulson. Grabbing the medical kit from under his seat, Clint cracked it open. "You've got a few cuts; there was a lot of glass flying around back there," he observed, rummaging around until he found what little gauze and disinfectant was left. "Man... always run out of gauze and bandaids first," he muttered as he started dabbing a fairly sizable laceration on Coulson's cheek, his free hand on the back of the agent's neck to keep him still.

 

The reversal was almost startling, Clint's suddenly taking care of him. Coulson hadn't expected it, hadn't really even expected Clint to notice that he'd gotten a little banged up. It was usual. He was used to plucking glass out of Clint's hair and helping him butterfly together the odd gash as triage until they got to medical. The reverse was odd, but not unpleasant. Against his will, he felt the tension seeping from his body at the touch of Clint's hand against his skin. "Thank you. I'm pretty sure I'll survive."

"I'm not gonna put down any bets, but I'll try." Steve couldn't help but smile. Bruce was a good guy. He still remembered the awkward jealousy of watching him work with Tony at first. They had so much in common that Steve had a hard time feeling like part of anything involving the both of them. Eventually he'd come to realize that Bruce and Tony were close in an entirely different way. His heart leapt as the plane touched down, and Steve barely bothered to wait for the doors to open before he was hurrying from the plane. The sooner his report was filed, the sooner he could get back to Tony.

"I need to get the hammer to research, then I'll check in with medical." Coulson reached out to brush some glass from Clint's shoulder. You should too. Just to be sure."

Clint smiled faintly, standing. "Yeah, guess so. Doesn't feel like anything broken, but what the hell." He glanced at the hammer, which seemed to be practically begging for attention from its unceremonious spot in the forward corner of the plane. The archer shifted uneasily, glancing at Phil. "So... how do we get that thing to research without getting close enough to touch it? I'm betting Fury doesn't have any ten foot tongs laying around." In spite of his casual tone, Clint was internally a mess. Part of him wanted to pick the thing up and carry it, and the other part was so terrified of losing himself in the artifact that he wanted to bolt from the plane and go hide in his room.

Coulson took a slow breath. "I carry it. And when we get there, you make sure I put it down." He gave May a quick nod of confirmation that it was alright for her to go, and she slipped away without a word. As much as he didn't want to touch it, he wanted Clint to touch it even less. Carefully Coulson wrapped his hand around the handle and was surprised that it lifted easily. "That's not at all ominous," he murmured, heartbeat already picking up as he tried not to think of the million ways it could go wrong. "Let's walk fast, okay?"

Clint nodded. He wanted Coulson to put down the hammer probably at least as much as the agent himself did. He wasn't sure it was for the same reasons, though. "Good news is, I didn't notice anything until we started fighting, so... you should be okay?" he said, trying to sound reassuring. Doing his best to keep his mind clear with the hammer so close, Clint escorted Phil quickly down to the research floor. Through several airlocks and security systems, Clint was already talking with Jarvis to make sure a secure vault was set up for the artifact. By the time they got there, a half dozen guards waited outside a cell not unlike what they'd put Loki in, with the added advantage of a fully equipped lab an airlock away. Clint gestured to the pedestal in the center. "All you," he said, watching the agent closely.

Coulson could feel a strange, humming energy singing through his arm. He knew without trying that if he wanted to, he could have swung the hammer and taken out the closest wall. Instead he dropped it onto the pedestal like it was burning his hand and took a step back. "I think Howard Stark was right for once," he informed Clint grimly before taking another step away from the thing. "No one touches it if they can help it," he informed the closest researcher, a sprightly girl who didn't look half old enough to be in such a sensitive position.

"Not to worry, sir. We have plenty of friends to help." She giddily pointed out a robot arm already reaching out to seat the hammer properly on the pedestal. 

"Good. We'll be in the infirmary if we're needed." It was with a lighter heart that Phil led Clint toward the infirmary. The sooner they both got a clean bill of health and filed a quick report, the sooner he could get some sleep. Reaching out, he put a hand on Clint's shoulder. "For the record? I'm proud of you. I don't think everybody could have put it down and given that up. You did good."

Clint was appreciative of the reassuring touch. "Thanks," he murmured, rubbing his right hand over his other arm as he tried to ignore the strange tingle in the limb. "Glad to be getting away from that thing. It was too close, Coulson. I felt too close to losing it again," he confessed shakily. "Gotta give you credit, though. You didn't seem to have any problem putting it down." Then again, it shouldn't have surprised Clint. Coulson had nerves of steel and an ironclad mind to go with them.

"To be fair, I think I was too busy internally freaking out to really get into it," Coulson answered with a short laugh. He'd been able to feel the power, but he hadn't let himself experience it. He hadn't been in a position of having to use the damn thing the way Clint had. The second they entered the infirmary, medics were putting them through their paces. As expected, Coulson was deemed intact after a few stitches. The nurse was kind enough to slip him some painkillers for the soreness that was to follow, and he drifted over to the stretcher Clint was seated on. "You gonna live?"

Clint opened his mouth to answer, but the nurse interjected, "He's got a couple microfractures in his ribs, so considering the mission you guys weren't on because it's classified, he's in pretty great condition." The man shoved a few painkillers into the archer's hand and said, "Make sure you sleep when you get back to your room." The nurse unceremoniously butterflied a few of the cuts on Clint's face before stalking off to see to other people.

Clint glanced at the pills, then to Phil, then after the nurse. "What the hell else am I gonna do?" he wondered aloud, then shoved himself off the stretcher. He raised his eyebrow at Phil. "I take it you're alright, too?"

"I got stitches. It was almost dramatic." He pulled his own bottle of pills from his pocket and shook it. "Looks like we'll both have no problem with the sleeping part tonight, though." After a mission, sometimes it was almost better to have gotten a little hurt. The fidgety energy that came along with being constantly on edge for a few hours in a row often made it hard to come down and get proper rest despite being exhausted. "C'mon, I'll walk you to your room - unless you prefer my couch?"

Clint grinned. "I better sleep in my own room. People are gonna start talking," he teased, following Coulson down the hallway. He felt sore, wired, and about a million miles from ready to sleep, but he knew that was what he needed. Guess the pain pills are good news in this case. "Hopefully a couple of these puppies will make sure I'm not up all night watching reruns of Flip This House."

Coulson smiled back. "You've got a point. Sleep tight," he bid before heading back to the elevator and his own room. He went ahead and took a couple of the pills on the way down. He was a long way from hungry, and by the time he finished showering and putting on something that wasn't littered with pieces of broken glass, he'd be ready for sleep. The shower was a rebirth, the painkillers did their job, and within an hour, Coulson was happily buried beneath the covers with hopes of a full night's sleep for once.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Clint sighed as he shed his uniform, realizing he hadn't actually been inside his room in over a day. He gulped a few painkillers and barely managed to get through cleaning up and dragging on boxer briefs and a white t-shirt before he slid into his bed. He didn't rest easily, though, haunted by the feeling of helplessness he'd had faced a second time with Loki, the idea he'd had no way to protect Coulson or himself, the bizarre sense of power and security he'd gotten from the hammer. He jerked awake, eyes darting around the room as his heart hammered in his chest so hard he was sure he could feel the bed rocking. Trembling hands rubbed at his face as he fought to breathe normally, and he slowly slid out of the bed.

He wasn't quite sure how he'd come to the decision, where he'd gotten the idea, but not long after, Clint found himself standing outside Phil's door, pressing the call button. "It's me," he mumbled into the mic. Realizing that wasn't terribly specific, he added, "Clint." He felt dumb, standing in the hallway barefoot and in a t-shirt and underwear. He wasn't quite sure how he was going to explain himself, coming to ask to sleep in someone else's room like a five year old because of a little nightmare. //Well, already here...//

At the first sound of the buzzer, Coulson had groaned and pulled a pillow over his head. When he heard Clint's voice, however, he dragged himself up out of a happy, drugged sleep and stumbled over to the door. That he was wearing nothing but a pair of sleep pants didn't really occur to him. The part of Coulson's mind that was working wanted to be sure there wasn't an emergency first and foremost. He opened the door and stared for a moment. Once he felt relatively certain that Clint was alive and healthy, he stepped aside. "C'm'in," he mumbled, still blinking the sleep from his eyes. "Are you okay? Hurt?" He paused and tried to breathe through some of the fuzziness from the pain medication. "Should I make coffee?" Because if there was anything that actually required thought, he definitely needed coffee.

"I'm... uh... fine." He looked at the floor and mumbled, "I just... had a bad dream." It sounded even dumber out loud than it did in his head. "I was gonna... Look, I shouldn't've bothered you. I can go back to my room." He'd obviously shaken Coulson out of a sound sleep, and the man probably needed it as much or more than he did. 

"Huh uh," Phil protested, still sounding dull but sure all the same. "Couch. It's still made up." He gestured vaguely in the right direction before leading Clint over and patting the back of it. He managed a sleepy smile. "But you have to make coffee in the morning. Sleep. I'm gonna sleep. If you... y'know, if you have anymore bad dreams?" Still somewhat out of it, Phil pointed toward his room through the doorway. He stumbled back in that general direction a few moments later, sure that if Clint needed him, he'd be woken when that moment came.

Clint couldn't help quirk a smile. For all his no-nonsense attitude, Phil was kind of amusing when he was half-asleep. Settling gratefully on the couch, Clint felt the tug of the pain meds again and managed to drift off into a fairly sound sleep.

The archer started awake, momentarily confused as to where he was. When he finally figured it out, he also remembered he owed Coulson coffee. The archer rolled off the couch and dragged himself into the kitchen. It wasn't hard to find what he needed; the place was meticulously organized. Hoping Coulson liked his coffee as brutally strong as Clint did, the archer put a considerable serving of grounds in the maker and then settled at the bar and quietly waited for it to brew.

The smell of coffee and the hour reaching his usual wake up time combined to rouse Phil reluctantly from his sleep. He turned over in bed and slowly sat up. And then remembered that at some point the night before, he'd stumbled half dressed to his door and talked to Clint. Phil slapped his hands over his face and groaned. Silently he prayed Clint had been as out of it as he was and settled for grabbing a shirt before he left the room again. It was a slight improvement, anyway. He ducked out to see Clint casually leaning against the counter looking better than anyone had a right to so early in the morning. "Morning. I, uh... sorry if I was less than put together last night. Painkillers knock me out. And sorry about being not entirely, uh, dressed."

"Well, I figure if I can wake you up because I had a bad dream, you have every right to not pretty up before you answer the door. Though I wasn't expecting to get invited to your bedroom in the case of more nightmares," he said with a teasing smirk. The archer hadn't thought too much of it considering they'd both been well drugged. He hadn't missed some other information, though, seeing Coulson in nothing but sleepwear. //Yeah, that's not a path you need to go down. Still have to look him in the eye and all when he gives you orders.// As the coffee sputtered its readiness, Clint turned to pour Phil a cup and push it across the counter to him before preparing one of his own. "Not too sore this morning, I hope?"

Coulson couldn't believe he'd actually invited Clint to come to bed with him if he had anymore bad dreams. He wanted to go hide back in his room again, but Clint seemed willing to let it slide. "Thank you... and no. I'm fine. Mostly. The pills assured me a good night's sleep, interruption aside, and waking up to coffee always helps. I don't usually get to do that." By "usually" didn't get to, he meant that he never got to do it unless he programmed the pot. There was never anyone else there to do it. Small as the gesture was, it actually meant the world. "What about you? The dream? And you don't get to tell me that it was nothing. You woke me up in the middle of the night. Something's got you rattled, Clint. Talk to me."

Clint wanted to squirm under Coulson's scrutiny. He felt his pulse spike as he gathered his thoughts to explain. "I... the hammer for one thing," he said. "And... and Loki." He wrapped his hands around his coffee mug as if holding onto it might somehow keep him on an even keel. "He... I don't know what that new staff does, but he was going to either kill me or p..." he swallowed hard, "...possess me again. And you." He took a shaky breath, taking a few more seconds to gather his thoughts as he stared a hole through one of the walls. He finally looked back to Coulson. "If it hadn't been for the hammer, both of us... but... we were on the plane, and I could already feel it eating away at me." He stared at his coffee. "Not sure I'm more afraid of losing my teammates or losing myself." It had been more terrifying, he realized, that it had been Coulson. His handler was the one person that Clint was comfortable with aside from Nat. The two of them meant everything to him. The idea that he wouldn't have been able to save Phil without the hammer was utterly terrifying.

"You don't have to lose either," Phil chimed in when Clint finally seemed to have run out of things to say. "We'll find a way to fix things for Nat, and I'm not going anywhere. Neither are you. I won't let it happen again." If he'd had to fling that hammer out of the plane, he would have done it. "I know that I'm usually the one following the rules. There's a good reason for it. It's helpful. It's part of what keeps us all safe, but when it comes to you... I don't know if you've noticed, but when it comes to you, I've got a blind spot. Do you really think that I won't do absolutely everything in my power to keep you and to keep Natasha safe?" Phil actually found it in himself to smile. He wanted to take Clint's hand but held back from the familiarity. "We've survived worse, and we'll keep surviving. Period."

"Yeah," Clint nodded, rubbing at the back of his head and raking a hand through already disheveled hair. "Yeah, I'd say you've got a good sized blind spot for me," he agreed, thinking back to what he'd done to Scott. He was pretty sure Coulson would have thrown anybody else in the brig, probably with Logan. "Good thing, too, or I think Fury would've already had me put to sleep," he said with a faint smile. "Appreciate it. You sticking your neck out for us. You're... you're pretty much the only friend I have. You and Nat."

"Now that's not true. I'm not saying that all of SHIELD is on your buddy list, but the team, the Avengers? They're your friends." He tilted his head and regarded Clint quietly as they both sipped their coffee. "If you'd showed up at Steve's door - if he was there and not in Tony's room, of course - he would have let you in too. Same for Bruce or even Tony." Their team was odd, but it worked. They worked together beautifully in a strange, synchronous way that even Fury probably hadn't predicted. "That said, I'm honored to be your friend." Sappy as the words were, they were spoken with Coulson's trademark earnesty. He meant every syllable. "We aren't always going to agree or get along, but I'm always on your side."

"Good. Need someone to keep me straight. Especially lately," Clint decided. He took a thoughtful sip of coffee before adding, "and I know just about anyone from the team would've let me crash their couch, but..." He looked up and grinned faintly at Coulson. "If you think I'm admitting to Tony Stark that I need to sleep on his couch because of a nightmare, you're out of your mind."

"You make a good point." Coulson found himself unable to keep from laughing at the mental image. "Sorry, I'm sorry, that just..." He trailed off, still chuckling, and then got himself more under control. "No, that probably wouldn't be good for anyone's self confidence. Besides, there's no reason to. I told you before, the door's open. I meant it. Still do. Even at two in the morning, you're welcome. I can even get you a key if you want to crash here sometimes when I'm on assignment."

"That'd be good," Clint agreed. He caught himself thinking it'd be reassuring to be able to at least be on Coulson's couch if he woke up scared out of his mind again. //Well, that's a little weird.// Brushing the thought aside, he grinned a little. "If nothing else, I can just sneak in and hit your couch without waking you up again so you don't have to turn five shades of red when you realize you answered the door in your Captain America PJs." He knew it was a little mean. It was also vengeance for Phil laughing at him.

"I don't think we want to play blackmail games, Barton. Somewhere I have footage of Natasha putting you in women's underwear. My choice of sleepwear is pretty far down the list," Coulson countered with a smile. He had no such footage, of course, but it felt like a safe bet to say it had happened. Besides, he enjoyed the fact that Clint was willing to have fun with him. He loved Natasha too in a very different way, but Phil would never have tried the sort of verbal sparring with her that he engaged in so freely with Clint. "You're just jealous because you don't think I have a pair with little arrows on them too."

Clint was looking for paper towels to mop up the coffee he'd spit all over the counter - Phil had guessed accurately - when the agent mentioned the arrow pajamas. Clint froze, his hand on a paper towel in the puddle of coffee. "They... they make those?" he asked, trying to absorb the idea that he had his own merchandise and that Phil Coulson might be wearing it. 

Phil smiled back as though he hadn't seen Clint almost choke to death on a sip of coffee. "They do," he answered, nodding sagely. "Also boxers." He let that sink in for a moment, enjoying the way Clint turned a rather pretty shade of pink. Turnabout was fair play. "You'd be amazed by the things I have in my wardrobe, Barton. And my video library."

Clint straightened, opened his mouth, closed it, and furrowed his brow, trying to think of a decent way to respond. "So, why... I mean, what kind of... How do you..." The archer cleared his throat, purposefully putting his hand on the pile of soaked paper towels and absently moving them over the counter top. "I... so... you kept the videos of me?" he asked, frustrated to find that the sentence ended in a bit of a squeak. The idea of Coulson having watched a fair number of his sexual exploits was starting to have an entirely different connotation.

The teasing was turning from light and fun to somewhat uncomfortable. Coulson had actually wiped more than a few videos specifically to keep from letting himself drift in that direction. When he couldn't keep a straight face any longer, he smiled and shook his head. "No. Not the way you're thinking." He didn't want Barton to think he was a complete pervert. He might have had one or two (or a few dozen) masturbatory fantasies about his coworker, but surprisingly few of them were fueled by anything grounded in reality. "I have some moral standing to uphold."

Clint stared, dumbfounded for a few moments before he cracked a grin that slowly turned into a solid belly laugh. He wasn't sure if it was relief or true amusement, but he had tears in his eyes and was clinging to the edge of the counter to hold himself up before he finally got a grip. Sniffling and wiping the tears from his eyes, he finished mopping up the coffee and tossed the paper towels before moving to refill his cup. "Gotta say, that... you had me going there," he said, pouring out the last of the pot into his cup. "Damn you and your poker face, Coulson. You had me convinced for a minute there that you had me in your spank bank." Not that it wouldn't have been flattering, just a bit awkward. Especially after having caught a few glimpses of the outline of Phil's package in his PJs. //Yeah, that'd make this whole handler-asset relationship a little awkward,// Clint reflected with a smirk as he started pulling together another pot of coffee.

Coulson smiled back mildly, carefully keeping silent. He didn't generally lie unless he needed to, so instead he let the comment lie. "I meant it about the sleep pants. That's a thing. I passed on the boxers, though. That seemed a bit intimate." He watched quietly as Clint navigated the kitchen like he belonged there. It made his heart constrict rather painfully. "Thank you." Coulson nodded toward the new pot. "For the coffee. I appreciate it. After yesterday, I definitely need it."

"Sure," Clint replied, passing Coulson another cup. "Least I could do, since I think I drank a good three-quarters of the last pot." He lifted his cup to his lips, deliberately took a sip, swallowed, then asked, "So, you've really got the pants?" When Coulson nodded, Clint couldn't help a faint blush. Maybe the boxers were 'too intimate,' but Clint couldn't help but find the pants only slightly less so. "I think... I think I might be flattered," he said with a faint laugh.

Coulson laughed along with him, glad that Clint was amused by the fact instead of put off. He knew that plenty of people in SHIELD considered his geekier pursuits to be ridiculous and embarrassing. Phil considered them a part of his life he wasn't willing to change simply because some people didn't know how to enjoy themselves. "Good. You should be. I'm very picky." Coulson sipped at the coffee and felt his faculties slowly returning to normal. "I'm fairly certain that without caffeine I might actually stop being able to get up in the morning. Ever."

 

"I might stop being able to stay up three nights in a row," Clint agreed, though he was feeling significantly better. "Glad I finally caught up on my sleep, at least. Sort of, anyway." He frowned, sobering a little. "Guess we've still got a lot of work to do. I just hope that whatever Stark and Banner come up with, they can figure out a way to fix everybody with that hammer." He sipped at his coffee again before muttering, "Maybe we should go check on it," on impulse. //Wait. No. I want to stay the hell away from that thing.// "Or not. Probably not," he amended. "Dumb idea. We can just stay here, drink coffee, talk about merch."

"No hammer," Phil agreed resolutely before suggesting, "but we could check on Natasha." She deserved to know that Loki hadn't gotten what he wanted and that there might soon be help for her. Coulson fought back a surge of jealousy at giving up the rare downtime with Clint. It wasn't his to monopolize. "I'm sure she'd appreciate some company."

Clint nodded his agreement. He'd almost forgotten for a second that the world was circling the bowl in the midst of their banter. He'd even almost managed to put his teammates' troubles out of his mind. Selfish, perhaps, but Clint worried enough for four people most of the time. Still, the idea of checking on Nat actually served to brighten his mood a bit. "Yeah, let's do that," he decided, then remembered he wasn't exactly dressed for it. "Right after I put some real clothes on. Meet you at the cell block in ten."


	18. Putting It Out There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve and Tony take a few moments for themselves. Very few.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's smut, but it's fluffy smut. This is mostly pure sweetness because they deserve it. Things are about to get rough.

Steve felt like he could finally breathe again when the door to Tony's room closed behind him. He tried to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to wake the man if he was resting. Naturally when he arrived, he found Tony propped up in bed tapping away at his tablet. The sight brought a smile to his lips, and Steve leaned against the door frame to watch. "I'm pretty sure you're supposed to be resting." Apart from a few bumps, bruises, and scrapes that would heal up quickly, medical had been satisfied that Steve was in one piece. 

 

"I am resting. See? Laying down," Tony pointed out, grabbing his coffee cup from the nightstand and taking a sip. "Jarvis has been keeping me briefed on everything." He shook his head. "You need to keep an eye on Barton. Guy acts like he's going off the deep end," he noted, switching his tablet over to a feed of the security camera on the hammer and flashing it at Steve. "That's interesting. I'm assuming I get to play with evil!Mjolnir, right?" Waiting for an answer, his eyes drifted over Steve's face. The man looked tired, grubby, had a cut on his lower lip and a few shreds and burn marks on his uniform... and was absolutely sexy. "I'd tell you that you look amazing right now, but I'm starting to feel like a broken record. Anything I can kiss and make better?"

"Everything," Steve agreed with a sigh, "but after I shower? I smell like burnt hair. That's apparently the downside of mutant allies covered in fur." He plucked a stray strand of blue off his uniform. With Tony staring at him like he was on the menu for dinner, Steve couldn't resist crossing over to the bed and kissing him softly. "I promise, I'm joining you after I get clean. I might not even bother to put anything on... if you stop it with the coffee."

"You know, I read in some article somewhere that ultimatums are bad for a relationship," Tony pouted, but pushed the coffee aside. "No more coffee, then. But you better be extremely naked when you come back. Maybe even super naked. Astonishingly naked. You can use my shower," he said, pointing toward the bathroom. "Hang on." Grabbing Steve by the sleeve, Tony snagged another blue hair. "This is interesting... Henry McCoy?" He looked at Steve askance, his expression playful, unable to resist teasing Steve a little. "Can't stay away from the scientific types, hm? You hussy, you."

"It's not my fault. He's like a big, furry teddy bear." Steve shrugged his shoulders and backed up, hands held up in a gesture of surrender before he disappeared into the bathroom. It felt like heaven to let the hot water cascade down over him. As the adrenaline wore off, Steve finally began to realize how tired he was. He'd been tense the entire time, worried about his team and about Loki and about whether they could recover the stupid hammer. Though he was still worried for the portion of the team who remained under wraps and for Clint, who'd obviously had too much contact with the hammer, Steve felt better knowing they'd gotten home in one piece. No one was badly hurt. No one had fallen completely apart. By the time he emerged from the bathroom he was tired, damp, but happy. "Naked enough? I'm pretty sure there's nothing else I can take off."

Tony made a show of scrutinizing the blonde before finally patting the mattress next to him. "You could take a load off. Pretty sure you need a doctor. I have a PhD or two. You can totally trust me," he said, setting his tablet aside and turning the covers down next to him. Tony himself wore only a thin tank top and a pair of boxers, but he had no doubts that he'd be shedding those soon enough.

"Oh, I don't trust you. I'm not that dumb." Steve grinned as he climbed into bed and draped himself half over Tony. He sighed with relief at the contact and for a moment ignored baser urges to instead indulge the desire to lay his head on Tony's shoulder and listen to his heart beating. "I know it's dumb because I wasn't gone that long, but I was going crazy leaving you here alone. I just... I wanted to be here. If you wanted lunch, I wanted to get it or just... just whatever." Steve huffed out a laugh and kissed Tony's neck. "Glad I'm here now."

Tony smiled, actually enjoying the simple cuddling. He toyed with Steve's hair, running his other hand over Steve's shoulder. "Me, too. They kept bringing me cafeteria food," he complained. He was silent for a long moment before he spoke again. "I worried. I mean, I know you're a lot more durable than I am, but it was pretty hard for me to sit here and listen in over the comms center and not be able to do a damn thing to help."

It warmed Steve's heart to hear that Tony had been worried. He let his eyes close and smiled. "Hopefully you'll be better soon and there won't be a fight for awhile. Then we can take that vacation and neither one of us can worry." None of those things would fall into place, but Steve liked to pretend they would. He shifted, moving carefully upward until he could kiss Tony's lips. "You up to a little playtime before I pass out for a few hours?" He wanted to connect with the man so badly he could hardly stand it, but Tony was the one who really needed the rest.

Tony stroked his hands over Steve's back and gave him a raised eyebrow. "If I ever say no to that, tell Fury I've been compromised," he decided, pulling Steve down into a hard kiss, his fingers tangling in still-damp blonde locks. They hadn't been apart all that long, but the idea of how tenuous their lives were wasn't lost on Tony, and it fueled his eagerness to reassert their connection.

Steve did his best to keep his weight off of Tony. He didn't want to crush the man or aggravate his injuries, but his hand did slide down between them to stroke Tony through the thin fabric of his boxer briefs. His tongue thrust in time with the strokes, a teasing reminder of what they'd be doing once Tony was back on his feet. When Steve couldn't take the fabric being in the way anymore, he left off kissing Tony long enough to strip away the boxers and, more carefully, his tank top. "That is so much better." When he lay down against Tony again, their bodies lined up perfectly, cocks dragging together deliciously.

Tony could feel his stitches strain a little even under Steve's partial weight, but they didn't hurt, and he ignored the protesting injuries. He gasped shakily as their cocks ground together perfectly, his hips pressing up into Steve's. "Have to agree," he breathed, grabbing Steve's ass and pulling his hips down as he thrust upwards. Tony's hands mauled his lover's ass as he relished the slide of their bodies together, leaning up for another slow, teasing kiss.

 

Steve grabbed for the lube and coated his hand. He reached down and grabbed their cocks. It was a sloppy process, almost ridiculously so, but somehow more pleasant for it. Being with Tony was a messy business from start to finish. Steve smiled and stared for a second before kissing Tony soundly on the lips again. "Can't wait until we can do this without worrying about hurting you." He always worried a little. There was just a touch of fear, a hint that he might push too hard or too fast, but as long as he let Tony guide him, Steve knew they'd figure that out.

"Pretty sure... th-that's always a possibility," Tony managed as Steve's hand drove a moan from his lips. "You're doing fine... stop... worrying so much... ah-haaa... god, that's good." He buried his face in the blonde's neck, breathing in the scent of soap and sweat on his lover. "Steve... when I get better, I... nnng... I am gonna fuck your brains out," he decided, hands rising up to the blonde's shoulders and squeezing hard as he thrust up into his lover's touch.

 

"I'll hold you to that," Steve answered with an eager smile. He kept the pace of his strokes slow because he knew Tony couldn't afford to do too much writhing around. No matter how much he wanted to do far more athletic things, he was tired and Tony was hurt. Just being with the man soothed him to the core. Their hips shifted together, Steve's hand adding whatever friction they didn't create naturally. "I could stay here with you like this forever."

"Not sure I could last that long," Tony panted, "but I appreciate the optimism." He leaned up to nip at Steve's throat, then pressed his lips to stubbled skin. His fingers trailed between Steve's ass cheeks, one digit dipping a little deeper, brushing against Steve's tight pucker. Tony desperately wanted much, much more, but he knew better than to think that his stitches would hold up. The nurse, after a lot of pestering, had informed him he'd need at least a couple more days.

Steve let out a shuddering groan against Tony's neck. He knew they couldn't follow through, but the promise turned him on to the point where he could barely see straight. "Close," he murmured, kissing Tony's shoulder, his neck, finally his lips. It took only a few more rough thrusts before Steve came, chanting Tony's name like a mantra. He did his best to maintain a decent pace with his hand. Steve wanted more than anything to make Tony feel every bit as good as he did.

Tony wasn't far behind his lover, arching against Steve's body as he came, his free hand digging hard into the blonde's muscular shoulder as he gasped softly. He collapsed boneless against the mattress, his body jerking a few more times in the aftermath before he fell completely still, grinning stupidly at the the other man. "I think... I think there wasn't a lot of point in that shower you took," he observed, reaching up to drag Steve into a languid kiss.

"The fact that you don't have glass ground into your skin right now says otherwise," Steve countered, "and did I mention the singed hair smell?" He pressed a sloppy kiss to Tony's lips and rolled reluctantly away to get them a damp towel. It took a few minutes, but soon they were both more or less clean. Steve resumed his place pressed happily against Tony's side again. "Now I'm going to sleep. So are you." He batted at the hand already reaching for Tony's tablet. "No. Sleep." Steve put his head on Tony's shoulder and an arm across his midsection, effectively pinning his lover. "G'night."

Tony strained to reach his tablet, fingers grabbing uselessly at the air for a few moments before he sagged back into his lover. "You... are insufferable," he grouched, though didn't actually sound offended. He glanced at Steve, admiring his face in the dim light of the reactor. He lightly carded his fingers through Steve's hair before slowly drifting off, his hand resting lightly against his lover's cheek.

Steve woke in the morning still curled happily around Tony. He smiled against the man's bare shoulder and then nuzzled against Tony's neck. He didn't care if it was sappy or silly. He liked cuddling Tony, damn it. And try as he might to pretend otherwise, Tony liked it too. "Morning, handsome," he whispered with a kiss to Tony's ear. "Gonna put on some clothes and get us breakfast. And decent coffee. Any requests?"

"Mrrnngnfff." Tony leaned into Steve and clung to the man, mumbling something that might have been interpreted as 'five more minutes,' though it was really anyone's guess. When Steve didn't seem willing to accept that as an answer, Tony finally allowed himself a smile and nuzzled his lover back. "I'll have a shot of whiskey in my coffee. And my oatmeal. And anything else you can sneak it into. Maybe the toast," he added with a yawn.

"I think that might make the toast soggy," Steve protested, "but I'll see what I can do." He had no intention of giving Tony alcohol given the pain meds he was on and they both knew it, but he was willing to play along. Steve kissed Tony on the cheek before he got up, brushed his teeth and pulled on some clothing. He went to Tony's favorite coffee shop on the corner and was back a half hour later with two coffees and a bag containing a variety of pastries. "Food," he beckoned, crinkling the bag as he sat down on the bed next to Tony and kicked his shoes off again. "I'm willing to bribe you into consciousness."

Tony grumbled, opening one eye to peer at Steve from the depths of his pillow. "Feed me?" he requested, not moving a muscle. When he didn't get compliance, he grudgingly sat up, his hair a definite mess. The sight of Steve cleaned up and wearing his usual forties-style button-down was enough of a reward for getting up, and Tony smiled despite himself. "Okay, this is worth getting up for. A hot guy, coffee, pastries, and also a hot guy," he admitted, yawning a little as he looked through the bag Steve had brought back. "My favorite coffee shop, too." He glanced up and smiled at his lover, pecking a kiss to the blonde's cheek. "You're the best."

Steve ducked his head, smiling back and reaching for Tony's hand to give it a squeeze. "I can't help it. I like making you smile." Being with Tony felt better than he'd ever thought anything would again after his return from the ice. Coming back into the world had hurt like hell. He hadn't planned to say more, but sitting in bed sharing breakfast with Tony, the quiet, sweet moment between them... "I love you." Though he felt a flash of panic once the words were out, Steve didn't regret saying them. Quietly, he added, "I didn't plan that one. Sorry. I don't... I'm not looking for a reaction here. Just wanted to say it."

Tony momentarily looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He slowly put his food and coffee aside, lips pressed together as his nerves rattled him to his core. He was never good at this sort of thing. He always knew the perfect thing to say to get someone to sleep with him, the perfect comeback for any insult, the perfect way to tell someone to fuck off, but when it came to telling someone he liked them... loved them, he was all thumbs. He wrapped his hands over Steve's forearms, tugging the man closer, looking into his eyes. "You're so sweet and gorgeous and smart and I... Steve, I..." Tony bit his bottom lip. With none of his usual suavity, he jerked the blonde into a hard kiss, drawing away after only a moment and laying his head against Steve's chest. "Love you, too," he finally managed to mumble, even managing to say it loud enough for a normal person to hear it.

At first Steve was sure he hadn't heard any of it right, that he was having an auditory hallucination. When he realized that the gorgeous man pressed against him really had said what Steve thought he said, he found himself fighting back tears. As it was, his voice was choked as he whispered back, "I'm a very, very lucky guy," before kissing the top of Tony's head.

"Well, we'll see about that one," Tony quipped, though he didn't push the joke further. The moment was too perfect to fill with his usual snark. He pressed himself close to his lover, listening to Steve's heartbeat. There were a million things he wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut. Now wasn't the time for him to babble clumsily in a useless attempt at expressing himself, and even he knew it. "This feels good," he murmured, staring at a point on the mattress as he held onto Steve like he was afraid the man might disappear. "Perfect. I'm not dreaming, right?"

"Not unless I am too." Steve couldn't believe Tony felt the same way and more that he was willing to say so. It was more than he'd dared to hope for. Finally Steve gave Tony's head another kiss and then pointed out, "Your coffee is gonna get cold… and I'm not gonna go anywhere." Casually made though it was, Steve meant the promise with his whole being. Tony had lost too many people in his life. Steve refused to add to that list.

Tony nodded, sitting up a little. He honestly hadn't trusted himself to make eye contact with Steve for a few moments. He didn't want to betray his uncertainty. It wasn't that he doubted Steve on any level, but Tony had a hard time believing any real relationship involving him had any kind of hope. Finally gathering his nerve, he looked up at Steve and offered him a smile, leaning up to peck a kiss onto his soft lips. "Thanks," he said. "You're my hero." The words were uttered a little more softly, without the usual snarky edge.

Steve grabbed Tony's coffee and the bag of pastries and gladly gave him first dibs. As long as he had his breakfast with Tony, Steve didn't care what he was eating. "Think you'll be up to helping Bruce in the lab today if I grab a chair to get you down there?" The sooner they found a way to help their teammates, the better off they'd be.

Tony rolled his eyes impatiently. "Do we have to do the chair?" he grumbled around a mouthful of danish. When Steve gave him the 'no bullshit' look, Tony acquiesced. "Fine. But it better have racing stripes. Or at least a backup beeper. Think we can get one of those stunt chairs on short notice?" When he didn't get any form of agreement, Tony washed his food down with coffee. "Yeah. Yeah, I can work. If I have to stay in here for another day, I will lose my marbles. Marble. Just the one."

"Definitely just the one," Steve agreed with a laugh. He kissed his lover before disappearing for a good fifteen minutes. When he returned, Steve brought with him a basic wheelchair. "They offered a power chair, but this is better exercise, plus it's a good excuse for me to stick around sometimes to play chauffeur."

“Well, since I get a chauffeur out of the deal, I’m not gonna complain. Much,” Tony allowed with a smirk. “Take me away, Jeeves!”


	19. Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we check in on the prisoners, and the status quo is mostly maintained.

Clint managed to slip back to his room without anyone catching him running around in barely more than his tighty whities, and he was soon dressed in a loose-fitting charcoal gray hoodie and jeans. When Coulson arrived at the door to the cell block, Clint looked far from pleased. "Looks like they've revoked my access. I guess Fury didn't like your report about me and the hammer. If I had to guess."

Coulson's fingers clenched into a fist, but his face remained calm. "Change of plans, then. We go find out what Fury's next step is." Annoyed as he was with the man, it was a bad idea to try and talk to him. It also happened to be his only idea. "You aren't getting benched on this."

Clint had already fallen in to follow Coulson back upstairs, but one of the junior agents - a guy in his twenties who looked like he'd used an entire bottle of hair gel that morning - hustled over to catch up with the senior agent. "Sir... Director Fury's orders said that Barton could be admitted to the cell block under your escort."

Clint paused, raising an eyebrow. "That seems awfully generous," he said doubtfully.

The junior agent held up a set off high-tech looking handcuffs. "There were some other stipulations," he said, looking almost apologetic.

The archer looked more shocked than angry, but his expression leveled out a moment later, and he looked at Coulson. "If this is what it takes. I do want to see her. You game?"

"Of course," Coulson agreed readily. He took the cuffs and put them on himself. He hated that they had to use them at all, but at the very least he wanted to be in charge of the situation. Smiling sadly at Clint, he checked to make sure the cuffs weren't too tight before leading the archer to the cell block.

Natasha took to her feet the second she saw them. The bare flicker of unease on her face was akin to full out panic on anyone else. "No! You-"

"He's not a prisoner," Coulson assured. "Things have just been a little complicated. Fury's hedging his bets. He didn't ask for a second opinion."

Nat's gaze narrowed. "Tell me." She looked exhausted but more or less okay otherwise.

Clint decided it was best to ignore the weird thrill he got from having Coulson put cuffs on him, focusing on more immediate concerns instead. He couldn't help but smile a little when he saw Nat. He hated that she was still locked up, but she did seem to be doing better. Clint leaned against her cell door as if to get as close to the woman as he could. "We found the hammer. Even managed to get it before Loki, though just barely. These," he held up his wrists, "are probably because I happened to be the one to find it." He clenched his jaw and looked at the ground for a moment. "It... does things to a person, I guess," he said, glancing at Coulson as if hoping for a bit of help in explaining.

"Which is why I'm currently a permanent accessory. Sorry, I'd offer you two privacy if I could."

Natasha shook her head and waved the idea away. "Doesn't matter. I wouldn't say anything to Clint I wouldn't say in front of you." Though she didn't have nearly the buddy relationship with Coulson that Clint had forged, Natasha trusted the man. He had the greater good in mind when he acted, and he'd proven more than a few times that he wasn't an idiot. That was all she really needed to know. "Besides, this way you can keep me from killing Clint with my scary new mind powers." 

The wry smile that accompanied the words left Phil smiling back despite the seriousness of the situation. "I'll keep that in mind. I might even stop you. Right now, we're hoping Stark and Banner can put their heads together and make the hammer do something for you and Logan and Summers."

"That would be nice." Natasha rubbed her forehead absently. "It's like having a migraine medication can't touch. I'm not overly fond of the sensation."

Clint's forehead creased. "You're handling it really well. I think I'd be in a corner crying like a bitch," he admitted with a smirk. He glanced at Coulson. "And where do you get off saying you *might* save me from her scary mind powers? I'm not sure I deserve that." Shifting his focus back to Nat, he grinned faintly. "You'll be pleased to know, though, that in spite of all the drama, I did manage to give Loki a solid thump in the ribs with the hammer. Pissed him off, too. He threw one hell of a temper tantrum about it." His voice hitched a little at the end of his sentence as he remembered the counter attack but quickly snapped himself back to the moment. Nat was there, Phil was there. He had his friends, and all things considered, they were doing pretty well.

"So my fate rests in the hands of the science bros?"

"It does," Coulson agreed.

Natasha smiled slowly. "Okay." As much as she didn't trust Stark when it came to being a practical, functioning adult, she knew that together he and Bruce could accomplish damn near anything they needed to, especially with SHIELD resources behind them. "Things will be fine, then. Everybody came through okay?"

"All present and accounted for. Some bumps and bruises, but we're fine. So are the X-Men. A couple of them came to help us."

"Hm. Would have liked to have seen that." Natasha sank back down onto the bench in her cell. "Do me a favor and tell Stark to hurry... if he can stop making out with his boyfriend long enough."

Clint frowned at the idea that Stark was being anything but productive when it came to recovering their allies. "Yeah," he agreed, glancing at Coulson. "I'm sure we can convince Cap to let him go... and shouldn't he be too injured to be fooling around, anyway?" Not bothering to wait for an answer, he looked back to Nat. "We definitely need you back out there with us. Agent May scares me." He was joking, of course, but the woman was a poor replacement for Nat, highly skilled or not.

Natasha opened her eyes and met Clint's gaze. "She should. Melinda May could kill you in your sleep before you even go to sleep." 

"She's ready to go back to her usual duties too... which is why we need to get you taken care of as soon as possible. Preferably before she finds enough reasons to decide it's worth the paperwork to kill Barton." He knew May well enough to know she wouldn't actually do Clint harm unless she had to, but that didn't mean she wouldn't want to. As far as May was concerned, the mish mash of semi-agents that were the Avengers were more trouble than they were worth. Coulson disagreed stridently, but he also understood why she thought so. 

"Tell the team I'm sorry I wasn't there." Natasha slumped forward, elbows braced on her knees. "I hate feeling useless."

Clint couldn't help but smile at the sentiment. He didn't enjoy Nat's frustration, but he could sure as hell relate. "Makes two of us. And Coulson's right. Pretty sure May hates me already," he said, grinning faintly. He looked to Coulson. He didn't want to leave Nat, but... "You think we should go make sure Stark isn't being useless?"

"Y'know, that he isn't being himself," Natasha chimed in. She couldn't help smiling faintly. They were her team. The Avengers were an odd group, but she loved it. She loved every second of it. Even the parts that hurt like hell. Leaning back until she was resting against the wall, her gaze shifted to Coulson. "Take care of him for me."

"Always."

She smiled again and gave Clint a little wave as the pair of them headed out. It was a conversation that could wait until later, a thought that she let percolate in the back of her burning mind. It could wait.

They made it to the lab without incident, though Coulson was told firmly and more than once by different agents that the cuffs had to stay on. He didn't like it, but he didn't protest. It made sense. It did. They arrived in the lab to find Steve entering a beat after, pushing Tony in a wheelchair with one hand on the man's shoulder as if he was sure Tony would bolt out at the first opportunity otherwise, which was probably true. "Natasha wanted us to make sure that everything was going well."

Steve smiled. He could hear every unspoken word in the sentence. "Don't worry. Getting everybody back on track is priority number one right now. For everybody." As much as he would have loved to spend the day curled up in bed with Tony basking in the glow of what they'd shared with one another for the very first time that morning, he wasn't going to let the team suffer. "I'm sure between Bruce and Tony we'll have this taken care of before Loki's ribs heal." His smile faltered as he caught sight of Clint's cuffs. "Is that really necessary?"

The sprightly girl who'd been there when they dropped the hammer off chimed in helpfully, "Only for now. We aren't sure how deep the effects run just yet. I'm sure Agent Barton understands."

Tony turned in his wheelchair, quirking an eyebrow at them. "So this is legit? Not another weird fetish thing?"

Clint gave Tony a death stare. "Stark..."

"Guess it wouldn't be. Coulson's not holding an actual leash," Tony observed, smirking when Clint had the decency to blush.

"Stark," Clint managed in a voice that made it clear he was exercising every last ounce of patience he had and that Tony was probably lucky he was wearing handcuffs, "we're just here to see if you two are making any progress." He could see the hammer behind a few layers of blast-proof glass, and he was fairly sure he could feel his hands itching.

Politely disregarding the more awkward parts of the conversation, Bruce held up a tablet for display. "Still getting a good energy profile on it. It's kind of hard to do."

"By which he means more or less impossible. You can't profile what's not there," Tony added, moving to stand and grab something only to be shoved back into his chair by Steve. He gave the other man an exasperated look before wheeling himself over two feet and grabbing another tablet off the table. "It's like the energetic equivalent of a black hole."

Clint glanced at Steve, who also looked baffled, then back to Bruce. "What?"

"As far as instruments are concerned, this thing barely exists. I haven't been able to weigh it, get a measure of its volume, or even reliably measure the handle." He brought up a blurry looking picture. "Even this changes subtly."

Clint tilted his head. "Do we really need SHIELD's old picture with it right there?"

"This is a new picture," Bruce said. He smiled at Clint's look of disbelief. "Yeah. It's like that. So we're going to need a minute to figure out if and how we can use this thing." He held up a hand when Clint looked ready to speak. "Without touching it."

"Honestly, it's a shame," the girl broke in only to have the thread picked up by a curly-haired young man who had been muttering over a console in the back of the room. 

"If we could just grab the blasted thing and-"

"But that would be very dangerous, of course." Seeing the blank look on Clint's face, she blushed. "Of course, we haven't met. Agent Barton, I'm Jemma Simmons, and this is Leo Fitz and-"

"Most people call them Fitz-Simmons," Coulson clarified. He suspected Clint had heard them referred to jointly. The pair were young even for the pool of talent SHIELD usually mined, but they were also unquestionably brilliant. Some of the best tech they had that wasn’t made by Stark came from the young scientists. "Glad to have you on this."

The pair both beamed at the praise, and Simmons continued, "Dr. Banner has been absolutely invaluable. Honestly, I don't think we'd even have what to do if - and, of course Mr. Stark," she added when Tony looked offended at not being included to start with. "This is quite thrilling."

"And important. We have three agents - three important agents - who need to be back in the field. We have to get them there," Coulson reminded her despite appreciating the enthusiasm. "We need all four of you doing everything you know how to do to try and find a way to harness whatever the hell it is this thing actually does."

Clint tilted his head at the pair. "I'm sorry, are you two even old enough to drive?" he asked, already feeling overwhelmed by Simmons' bubbly enthusiasm. He'd heard of the two in passing, had assumed indeed that they were one entity and that that entity was at least Tony's age given the accomplishments he’d heard along with the name.

Hopefully before anyone's feelings could get hurt, Bruce interjected, "We'll get it figured out, Agent Coulson."

"See, everyone ignores the crippled guy. I need out of this wheelchair. Steve, you need to let me out of this wheelchair," Tony fussed, squirming uselessly against Steve's grip before subsiding and settling into the chair. "I'll be useful once I've had a chance to look at this thing and not just the barely-there readouts." Preferably up close. Tony had already resolved that he was going to slip past the blast doors the second no one was looking. All the measuring devices Bruce, Fitz, and Simmons had pointed at the artifact were obviously confused, and Tony wasn't the sort to sit around and scratch his head when the answers were right there at his fingertips.

"Well, I guess the emotional maturity's not that far off," Clint muttered under his breath, reaching up to scratch his cheek and making an irritated face when he was forced to raise both hands to do so. He wiggled his wrists a little in an effort to make the things more comfortable and a yellow light flashed, the cuffs emitting a high-pitched warning tone. "Uh..."

"I wouldn't." Tony pointed to the cuffs, already having located stashed blueberries from the lab and popping them into his mouth. "Stark tech. Piss them off enough and they tighten up for awhile. Fury's not screwing around."

Clint sighed, dropping his hands. "Great."

Coulson resisted the urge to put a hand on Clint's shoulder. He'd been too free with shows of affection as it was, and the last thing he wanted was to put the man in an awkward position when his life was looking awkward enough already. 

Steve stepped in helpfully, suggesting, "Since I'm not much good here except as a bouncer for Tony - and I think Bruce can cover that for me - maybe we could all go get lunch? I doubt you need cuffs to eat." He glanced at Coulson for confirmation and received a nod. "What do you say, Clint?" He hated seeing a member of his team who had actually done a really good thing for them all being put in cuffs for it. Steve leaned down and kissed Tony softly. "Behave," he whispered, "or you get cuffs too."

Tony gave Steve a wicked smirk and another kiss. "Promise?" he asked with a wicked grin.

Clint caught himself watching the interaction a little too closely and forced himself to look away. //Well, there's some wank fodder,// he reflected. It wasn't news that the two were together, of course, but getting to witness it first hand was a little more visceral. He wondered absently if they'd be interested in letting him play but dismissed it when he saw how they were looking at each other. Instead, he cleared his throat and held up his wrists. "Uh, if you guys are done, I think I'd like to go somewhere I don't have to be treated like a prisoner. Lunch. Lunch would be good."

Bruce had to duck behind a monitor and pretend to analyze something to keep from chuckling at the whole scene. Seeing Clint looking ready to swallow his tongue and Tony looking like he was wrapped around Steve's little finger was definitely making his day.

 

Steve lingered for a second more before he peeled himself away to fall into step with Clint and Coulson instead. He was blushing faintly but looked happy enough that - if he hadn't deserved every bit of happy he could get - might have seemed utterly inappropriate. As it was, Coulson found himself smiling in response to the buzzing undercurrent of warmth. It was like getting a contact high. At the last checkpoint, Clint got his wrists released at last, and Coulson politely thanked the agent who freed him for the help even though he was still pissed as hell that Clint had been subjected to the treatment to start with. That was his own business. No one else needed to know how many ways he'd pictured torturing Loki in his head over the course of the morning. It was a personal issue. "So... things are good with Tony?" he ventured, uncertain whether it was appropriate to bring it up but unable to resist given that it was the elephant in the room.

It was a relief to have it brought up so casually, and Steve smiled his gratitude. "Yeah. Really good. Better than I thought we could be." He'd spent a lot of time losing things since his return and feeling utterly out of place. "I finally feel like I'm the right place and the right time, and..." He cast an apologetic glance at Clint, "and I feel awful feeling so good when things are such a mess."

"Don't. Don't do that. You deserve it," Phil said earnestly. "It's kind of nice having something not horrible happening right now."

 

The glance in his direction had set his nerves and temper on edge. How much did Steve know? Clint knew that Fury kept Rogers briefed on most goings-on, but wondered just how much of his own fuck-ups had been transmitted and in what detail. "I'm fine," he grated raggedly, looking more raw than he really should have. He was still rubbing at his wrists, grateful to have the cuffs off. "I'm not broken. Fury's just being his usual paranoid self." Realizing that Steve could've just been sympathizing based on Nat's predicament, Clint's expression softened faintly. "Nat's doing a bit better. I don't know if she's getting used to being in pain or if it's backing off some, though."

"I hope so," Steve said with obvious relief. "I hope it's getting better. I hope they find something with that hammer." Natasha had been one of the first people to talk to him with no hint of condescension or strangeness. He was a coworker, he was part of the team, and she'd never taken apparent issue with it. He wanted her back, and he wanted it sooner rather than later. He'd seen the look from Clint and added quietly as they got into line, "I know what happened, but that's because I'm in charge of the team. It's not common knowledge, and it won't be. Period. It was a bad call, but that's all," Steve assured firmly. He passed Clint a tray. Despite all of Tony's protests, their cafeteria - staffed by four star chefs Tony had picked out himself - was actually good enough to put most restaurants to shame. "We've got big things to worry about, that isn't on the radar right now."

Clint couldn't help the flush of shame in spite of Steve's reassurances. "Thanks." A beat. "I mean, for not... just, thanks." He was glad that Steve wasn't judging him, but that almost made it feel worse, in a way. He was pretty sure he could've handled Fury screaming at him better than Rogers' quiet forgiveness. Trying to focus on something else, Clint looked over the overwhelming display of foods - half of which he couldn't have guessed the identity of - before picking a quiche and some four cheese macaroni. It was a weird combination, weirder for his choice of coffee as a beverage, but it was food he recognized and that would contain the stuff he needed to keep training and fighting. As they settled at a table, Clint unrolled his silverware before deciding, "Best bet on curing Nat and the others is still gonna be turning Loki into a puddle of goo." He looked between Rogers and Coulson, eyes intense, even a little manic. "The hammer hurt him. Not just a little. I'm pretty damned sure I broke something. I don't know how long he'll take to grow it back, but if I can hurt a god, I can kill him."

Coulson shook his head at once. "It's not worth losing you in the process. Not even close to worth it." 

Despite his surprise at Coulson's vehemence, Steve echoed, "He's not wrong." His own tray was laden with at least twice what either of his companions had taken with them. "We're down enough people, and after what happened last time... look, we don't know if that left any holes." For all they knew, it would be easier for Loki to get inside of Clint all over again if he chose to. "I'd rather be too careful than not enough."

"If anyone has to use it, it will be someone else," Coulson stated, leaving no room whatsoever for arguments in his tone. "You're done with it. The rest... the rest we'll figure out."

"I'm not damaged," Clint growled, thumping his fist on the table, then calming a moment later as Coulson put his foot down. Clint scowled in a way that made it clear he disagreed. "Who're you going to give it to? Tony Stark?" he scoffed. He glanced at Steve pointedly, then back to Coulson. "You're being awfully protective of me. If it comes down to it, I'm probably the most expendable. Besides, whatever sort of 'holes' there might be in my defenses, the hammer seemed to patch them up just fine."

"There's a difference between being physically vulnerable and being mentally vulnerable," Steve pointed out sharply. He could tell Clint wasn't going to back down on the issue, and he could see by the set of Coulson's shoulders that he wasn't going to either. The idea of a screaming match in the middle of the cafeteria didn't particularly appeal to him considering how much of a mess the team had been in the eyes of SHIELD already. "You get a say, Clint, but it isn't your call, and you know that already."

Coulson subsided at that, forcing his gaze down. That was true enough. It wasn't his call either. Steve's voice carried more weight than either of theirs. "You aren't expendable," he added so quietly he could have been muttering to himself.

Clint was hard-headed, fiery, and not just a little ready to go out and kill Loki. He was also good at figuring out when an order really was an order and he no longer had a vote. Grabbing his fork, he muttered, "Got it," before digging into his food. He froze a moment later though when he heard Coulson's objection. The oddly soft note in the man's tone made Clint look over before he could help himself. "I didn't... mean it that way." It was unsettling, the amount of care he'd heard in his handler's voice. The man seemed to be strangely overprotective lately. Clint was struggling to figure out why.

"He's right, though, Clint." Steve had noted the odd tone of Coulson's voice as well, and he wasn't sure how awkward things were going to get if he didn't step in. Whatever issues the two men had to work out between themselves, he knew they'd manage it given time. "You aren't expendable, and neither are Summers or Logan or Natasha." He waited until Clint looked at him again before assuring the man, "If turning Loki into a stain on the floor is the way we end this, that's what we're doing."

The tension eased even if it didn't go out of the room. Coulson cursed himself for being so sloppy. It was the lack of proper sleep and the mess that was his mind dealing with everything. Maybe it was the hammer and holding it even for a short time. Maybe it was just the fact that the idea of losing Clint to some damn piece of Asgardian trash made him want to tie the man down and keep him from touching anything at all. It was all ridiculous and not in the least bit helpful or productive. He cast a glance at Clint and offered him a flicker of a smile that he hoped would serve as a silent apology for the outburst.

Clint nodded at Steve's promise. "I think it's gonna be the only way to get rid of him permanently. His brother's already proven soft on him. We can't let him leave the planet this time," he insisted, then fell silent, poking at his food again. He realized a moment later he was being watched and looked up in time to catch Phil's apologetic smile. He clapped a hand on the man's shoulder. "It's okay. You're just looking out for me," he said, then dug back into his food. They were right. He knew they were, but it ate at him that Loki was still standing. If he'd had just a few more seconds, just a little bit better advantage, or if May hadn't called him off…

Even though he knew it was both a touchy subject and a difficult one, Coulson finally asked, "Has anyone been to see Summers and Logan."

Steve winced. He felt guilty at the very mention of it. "No. The last time I saw him... the last time I saw him, Logan wasn't himself. At all. I know it's awful to say it, but it's hard to see him like that." As for Summers, he'd been rather sure that the man didn't feel like talking to people who knew what had happened, but Steve knew that might be an unfair assumption. "I'll check on them after we eat. If anything's changed, I'll let you know."

"I think it's a good idea. The agents watching them didn't really talk to either of them before, so they won't notice the changes," Coulson said.

"Like you two knowing Nat seemed a little better." Steve was still relieved at the idea that she might at least not be actively suffering as badly.

Coulson nodded his agreement. "It's not a scientific method to gauge by, but it's a start." Until they had a better strategy, it was something. "I keep trying to get Fury to say something about Thor. He won't. It's a bad sign."

Clint nodded. "Fury likes to keep people in the dark, but not that dark," he agreed. "Something must be seriously wrong if he won't even tell us what planet the guy's on." It was frightening, really. They were essentially talking about facing Loki without the advantage of another Asgardian on their side. //And the one good hand we have, we're keeping tied behind our backs.// He was relieved, though, that Steve was willing to go check on Summers and Logan. Clint was pretty certain he'd punch anyone who came near him with handcuffs in the face.

Steve could feel the tension radiating off of Clint without even trying. He wasn't as sure as Fury that the hammer was the sole cause, but he could see it just the same. "I'm gonna go do a welfare check. You two try to get a little rest. You're not going to help anybody working yourselves until you can't see straight."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Even approaching Logan's cell made Steve nervous. The last time he'd seen the man, Logan had been a mess. He edged almost nervously over to the door. "Hey," he greeted softly, hopeful that he'd be talking to Logan and not some projection of Loki's into the man's mind.

Logan, crouched in the back of his cell, didn't move. The remains of Clint's arrow were still scattered across the concrete floor; Logan had cut the projectile from his chest the moment he'd regained a little lucidity. No one had had the nerve to get in the cell with him and remove them, though. In fact, the agents had been drawing straws to see who had to get close enough to pass him a tray of food. Apparently, he'd gotten a lot crazier before he'd finally calmed down, no doubt because whatever was riding around in the back of his brain had finally figured out that he wasn't getting out of the cell. "Y'know, Rogers... I never figured on askin' someone to put me in a cage," he finally muttered, pushing himself away from the wall. It was awkward. While he'd still been disabled, they'd fitted him with adamantium gloves, keeping him from extending his claws. Moving to the door, he leaned against it, pressing his face to the clear blast proof polymer that served as a window. "How's Scott?" he wanted to know. He'd heard the agents mention the man's name enough times to know that something had happened. "And Nat?"

"Scott's down the hall," Steve offered, wishing like hell that he could let the two of them be close enough to speak to one another at least but knowing at the same time it was a terrible idea until everything settled. "He seems to be manifesting some of the same issues you did. Clint brought him in." The rest could wait until later. Scott and Logan would need to talk about it themselves. "I'm gonna go see him next. Nat seems coherent, but she's obviously still hurting. We're working on a way to fix it. By we, I mean Bruce and Tony and some SHIELD folks." He smiled faintly and leaned against the door. "The only help I offered was trying to keep Tony from pulling his stitches while they were doing science."

Logan quirked a smile despite himself, but the expression faded just as fast. Steve hadn't really told him how Scott was, just that the man was there. "He didn't hurt anyone, did he?" he wanted to know, watching Steve's face closely. The cell muffled his senses, keeping him from being able to hear the other man's heartbeat, smell his sweat, do anything to tell if he was lying.

"No," Steve answered firmly. He didn't look away for a second. On that point, at least, he could be completely honest without fear of saying something that wasn't his to give away. "He didn't hurt anyone. He turned himself in when he started to think that something might be wrong." That was the gospel truth too even though it was a severely truncated version of the truth. "I can't say he's okay anymore than I can say you are, though. We both know that wouldn't be the whole story."

Logan nodded. It scared him a little to think that the Avengers might not be able to help them. He didn't want to know what SHIELD would do with him - or more importantly, Scott - if they decided he was a permanent liability. The feral mutant plucked up his courage for a moment before he looked at Steve again. "What I did earlier... Well, I think you know it wasn't me, but I still feel like I oughtta apologize. And tell ya thanks. For makin' sure I didn't hurt anybody."

"Not a problem. You would've done the same, I hope." Steve managed a smile and tried to mean it. "We’ll do everything we can to make you both safe, Logan." Though it was a small gesture in the grand scheme of things, he suggested, "I could get Scott a message from you if you like."

Logan had to think for a moment. There was a lot he wanted to say, and he hated the idea of not being able to look into Scott's eyes and hold his hands while he said it. But he wasn't sure when or even if he'd be getting out of the cage. "Tell 'im I miss 'im, and that I'm sorry." He hesitated a moment. His gaze flicked to the floor, then back up to Steve's face. "And that I love 'im."

Steve felt his heart break for them both even as he smiled. "I'll tell him. Every word." Their goodbyes were only somewhat strained, and Steve promised to come back, to check in, to relay any messages from Scott as soon as he could. He made his way down the line with a heavy heart and found Scott curled in on himself on the bunk at the back of the cell. "Scott?" The man's gaze snapped up, and Steve was struck by how young and vulnerable he looked. On paper they'd been walking the earth the same number of years - the ones spent on ice not precisely counting as far as Steve was concerned - but with his tear-streaked face and the circles under his eyes, Scott looked like he wasn't nearly old enough to have been through so much. "I know we don't know each other very well, but I wanted to check in."

Scott took a few breaths before he finally decided to talk. "Thanks," he said softly. Hoping his voice didn't crack, he ventured, "How's Logan?"

"You were the first thing he asked about too." Steve watched relief bloom on Scott's face.

"Did he... does... has anybody told him what happened?" Scott looked sick and ashamed. The arms wrapped around the knees drawn against his chest tightened. Scott felt every last muscle in his body tense as he waited for an answer. Logan would hate him. How could he not?

Steve hesitated and then shook his head. "No. That's between the two of you. We both know it wasn't a choice you made, exactly." He let Scott think that over. "Logan said to tell you he's sorry and that he misses you. And that he loves you."

The sick look was replaced by something just as wild but far less certain. "He... he said that?"

"Like I said, I don't know you very well. Believe me when I say that's not something I'd come up with on my own when I'm passing notes from your boyfriend."

The teasing seemed to work a little, and Scott almost smiled. "Will you see him again?"

"Yeah. Got anything I should say?"

Scott ducked his head. "Tell him I love him too... and that he doesn't have anything to be sorry about."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter left in Part 1. It's a doozy.


	20. Least Bad Ideas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clint and Phil have a surprisingly relaxing day... for awhile. Then everything goes to hell.

Phil watched Steve go and felt a surge of gratitude. "I'm sorry," he said as soon as Steve was clear of the table. "About earlier. I know you didn't mean it that way, and you're thinking the way you should be thinking. The way we both should be thinking. I guess maybe this whole thing's under my skin more than I realized."

Clint looked to his companion, still chewing the last of his food. "It's alright. I think we're all a little on edge," he said, finishing off his coffee. His mind flashed back to their light-hearted banter earlier that morning, and he found himself wishing he could get back to that level of relaxation. "You really think we'll be able to fix them? Summers and Logan?" While Nat seemed miserable, she otherwise seemed to be herself. The other two, though...

"I think we have to," Phil answered. He hesitated before allowing, "But I don't know if we can or not. Even if we do, it won't change what they've done, and if they remember that, it will be awkward at best. They may not stay even if everything goes the way we want it to." People left. They came and went. Scott and Logan had both already left one team behind, and for Scott it was a team that had been more or less a family to him through his whole adolescence. "I'm also not sure killing Loki - as warm and fuzzy as that would make me feel - will fix it. If he did something to them, he might also be the only one who can reverse it."

Clint nodded. He hadn't thought of that. The idea was sobering. The likelihood of Loki reversing the damage he'd done seemed low. "Well, there's no getting him to volunteer for that, is there? Except maybe getting his brother to 'convince' him. Wherever he is," he added, glancing out the cafeteria's big glass windows as if he might spot the god descending from the clouds at any moment. Clint tossed his napkin on his tray and leaned back with a sigh. His gaze drifted back to Phil. He kept turning over in his head the way the man had been acting the past two days: more controlling, more protective, more demanding... //He's just stressed. We all are.//

"Having Thor back would be the ideal scenario," Coulson agreed, rubbing his forehead as if it might soothe away his worries. The more time passed, the less he thought Thor would help at all, and the more it scared him. Even with the hammer, could they take down Loki and the Brotherhood without Thor's help? And how did one go about containing a god if they did? It hadn't worked out so well the last time they tried. "Fury either needs to tell us what the hell's going on with Thor or lift the drinking ban. I suddenly feel a distinct urge to be a casual alcoholic for a couple of days."

Clint nodded his agreement. "Got that right." He wanted to go back and check on Nat again, but he still wasn't in the mood to deal with handcuffs again. Instead, he focused on Phil. "Maybe we could find another distraction?" he suggested. He let the question dangle for an awkwardly long moment as he thought. "Maybe a stupid movie or go karts or something? I mean, I'm sure Fury won't want us getting too far from the tower, but if I don't get something to do soon, I'm going to be at the range until I run out of fletching."

"A movie would be good." He considered their options and offered, "There's an older theater down the block. They show mostly classics. I think they have a matinee." Some ridiculous eighties throwback flick sounded ideal as a distraction. "You in?"

"Sounds dumb. I like it," Clint decided, grinning faintly. Pushing away from the table, he stood and raised an eyebrow. "You ready to go, or do you have normal civilian clothes to wear out?" he teased, tugging at the lapel of Phil's suit. He rarely saw the guy in anything else. He'd even heard other agents joke that all there was of Phil was a head and hands. Clint had learned firsthand that that wasn't the case, but it was still pretty damned amusing.

"Cute." He blushed at the familiar touch but didn't rise to the bait. Phil stood and grabbed Clint's tray as well as his own before leaving them at the counter. "I'd like to change, yes. I do own 'normal' clothes. I never realized normal was so important to you, Barton. After all these years, I'm still learning things..." He threw the man a smile and led the charge to his room. Once inside, Phil scrounged up some jeans and a t-shirt and adjourned to the bathroom to put them on. Normally he didn't wear his t-shirts for much more than sleep or days spent in his own room. It was an odd and pleasant opportunity to be so dressed down. Even on nights when the Avengers got together for casual events and invited him, Phil so often came straight from his office that he rarely came in anything but his suit pants and shirt. He stepped out and held out his arms. "Casual enough?"

 

Clint was pretty sure it was starting to get weird. First, the PJs, then... "So, I have t-shirts, too, huh?" he asked, smirking faintly, his hands shoved securely in his jean pockets as he leaned against Phil's kitchen counter. "Keep this up, and you're gonna make Rogers jealous. And Stark and Banner, too. Pretty sure they've got some merchandise. Looks good, though." It really did. Phil was lean, far from the athlete that Clint was, but he looked good dressed down. Much less intimidating, much more the geeky guy he was. //Whoa, wait. Where's that coming from, again?// Feeling slightly confused by the random tangent his brain had taken, Clint focused on their plans for a movie. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Coulson agreed. He'd grabbed the shirt as a joke, but as he'd gotten dressed, it had started seeming maybe a little stupid. He'd gone from internally amused to intimidated and made a quick pass around trying to grab something else and change before he embraced the situation. Thankfully Clint had taken it in the spirit in which it was intended. There was no sense in grabbing Lola as much as he liked the idea of taking her out. Instead Phil settled for strolling side by side next to Clint, hands shoved in his pockets, enjoying the nice day. He'd ditched his contacts and pulled his glasses from his back pocket as they approached the theater. "Sorry, I know they're not exactly fashion forward, but considering how little sleep I've gotten, dry eyes are not my friend."

Clint looked surprised. "How long have we known each other? I had no idea you wore glasses," he said, reflecting absently that they looked good on Phil. Kind of appropriate, all things considered, though Clint had to fight back the urge to make a 'dad' joke. "No need to apologize. I mean, who're you dressing up for?" he asked as they approached the ticket kiosk.

//Who indeed?// Phil shook his head at his own foolishness and nodded his agreement a second later. "Good point. We're supposed to be dressing down." There were only two screens in the theater, and only two options. Hoping it was a safe bet that Clint wouldn't want to see the Care Bear Movie, Phil asked for two tickets to Weird Science instead. When Clint looked at him strangely, he realized what he'd done and ducked his head. "Sorry. I don't go to the movies with anybody all that often. It's habit to just... pay." He pushed the door open and held it. "I might as well be a gentleman."

 

Clint gave Phil an odd look but stepped through the door nonetheless. He was starting to decide that his handler had a strange sense of humor, because he was fairly positive that the other explanation for Phil's behavior was like explaining that the rain was god crying... when it was often, in fact, a direct result of Thor showing up. Clint lead the way through the older theater, noticing with a grimace that his feet were squishing through god-knew-how-many years' worth of soda residue. Settling in one of the uncomfortable seats, he put the arm down, then leaned away from Phil's seat. "Never enough armrest for two people. Always makes it awkward," he noted.

Phil chose not to point out that the lack of an armrest created a new sort of awkward situation, but he knew that the concern was mostly on his own part. Clint had no reason to feel awkward. The movie started soon enough, and he was glad of the distraction. It was the perfect kind of stupid, overdone and often poorly acted and funny more often than not. He chuckled at the right spots and did everything in his power to think about only the screen and not at all about the mess still waiting for them at the Tower.

Clint actually managed a few good laughs at the whole stupid movie. It felt good to just enjoy something so goofy. He even forgot about maintaining proper 'guy space' and sat up properly in his chair. Oblivious to the effect it might have, he sat back in his seat, shoulder-to-shoulder with Phil as the movie wound down. As the lights came up, he grinned at his companion. "Man, I needed that. You notice that one guy that looked like Stark's younger brother? Weird."

"Creepy. Upside is that by comparison Stark looks pretty well adjusted." He was enjoying the companionable warmth of Clint against his side. It seemed like a shame to move. Reluctantly Phil rose from the seat and stretched. "We should do this again sometime when the world isn't ending." Realizing belatedly that it sounded a lot like he was asking Clint out, he hurried to add, "With the team, I mean."

"Not sure I could deal with listening to Stark give Rogers a BJ in the row behind me while I tried to watch a movie. We can keep it you and me. Maybe drag Nat along if she isn't horrified by the idea of bad 80s movies," Clint decided, flexing his arms back and twisting until his lower back popped. Walking out of the theater, he noticed that the weather was lightly overcast and generally rather pleasant. "Wanna go for a walk or something? Not up for going back to the tower just yet." He knew it was selfish to run away from their issues. He also really couldn't bring himself to be unselfish just yet.

"That sounds good." Phil hadn't had time for any sort of structured physical activity in days, and he was starting to feel the absence. "It's too nice out not to enjoy it. Not quite ready to suit up and be an adult again." In the absence of solutions to any of their issues it all just hurt to think about. The light breeze outside smelled of rain, but the air wasn't heavy enough to suggest a storm coming. "I love weather like this."

"Pretty damned nice," Clint agreed, leading them toward a small nearby park. He had to sign a couple of autographs for the few people who recognized him in his civilian clothes. He knew he wasn't as popular as some of his teammates, and he was completely comfortable with that. He much preferred quiet anonymity. Clint wondered absently who would've even put Hawkeye merch out on the market, then decided it was probably Stark's fault at some juncture. "Hey, ducks." Looking around, Clint spotted a duck food dispenser and dug a few coins from his pocket. "Wanna feed the ducks?" he asked, grinning a little at Phil.

It was perhaps the most adorable thing he'd ever been asked. That Clint Barton, master marksman, was the one asking only made it more precious. Coulson couldn't help smiling as he agreed, "That sounds really nice." He hadn't fed the ducks since he was a kid, and the pure joy on Clint's face made warmth bloom inside him in a way that was miles from appropriate. The ducks spotted them coming a mile away and were soon quacking their way up onto shore to get a shot at the goods. "So is this how Clint Barton spends his afternoons off?"

Clint squatted as the ducks waddled up the shore, laughing softly as the birds shook water from their tail feathers and quacked demands for the food he was holding. He tossed a few pieces at a time, urging them to share. Glancing back over his shoulder at Coulson, he shrugged, looking faintly insecure. "Sometimes I meditate," he admitted, almost sheepishly. One of the ducks tugged at his pant leg, and he turned his attention back to the birds, tossing more food their way.

Coulson sat down on the grass, scattering some of the food near his feet and watching as a few of the ducks wandered closer to peck at the offering. "I can see why you'd like it here. I like it here," he added after a beat, offering a few more crumbs to one duck who didn't seem content to share with his fellows. The park was lovely, the ducks were cute, and seeing Clint so relaxed was a treat in and of itself. The week had been terrible, the day was still terrible, really, but the moment was worth it. Selfish as it probably was, Coulson couldn't shake the thought as he watched Clint smiling and tossing out the food a little at a time. "This is actually pretty perfect."

"Well... almost," Clint decided, his expression turning more grim as he remembered his fellows back at the tower. Unwilling to be the one who wrecked the mood, he glanced over at Phil, then smirked as he realized the man was sitting on his ass, surrounded by squabbling ducks. There was something patently absurd about the usually reserved agent in jeans, t-shirt, and glasses that tickled Clint. The smirk turned into a laugh, and Clint rocked back onto his butt and tossed the last of his duck food a good distance away, sending the birds scrambling for it. "Figured I better save you before 'perfect' turned to 'covered in duck shit'." He leaned back on his hands and grinned at Phil. "Though it would've made for a great Tumblr pic."

"I don't think I've got that kind of following," he answered, "though I should've taken a picture of you feeding the ducks. That would have gotten a few notes." When Clint shrugged it off, Coulson shook his head in return. It was amusing to realize that Clint had no idea what people thought about him. Maybe he didn't have the droves of fans that Cap or Iron Man did, but he was notorious in his own right. "You've saved a lot of lives, and after the Chitauri, people noticed. You're a hero too even if you don't think of yourself that way." He liked sitting there on a cloudy day with Clint next to the pond. Coulson looped his arms over his knees and watched the ducks fighting over the food, more eager than vicious.

Clint shrugged, showing another few cracks in his bravado. "I guess," he allowed. It was hard to think of himself as a hero. After SHIELD picked him up, he'd done most of his work in the shadows. Before that, he'd hardly been on the up-and-up. First a circus, then a band of mercenaries. None of it had conditioned him to think of himself as any better than a man who did his mission, then packed up and disappeared into the shadows. No accolades. No praise. No one ever knew. The Chitauri incident had definitely tilted his world on its ear. He looked around, noting the few people wandering the park in the middle of the afternoon. "It doesn't feel that way. I feel like I might've just barely made up for all the damage I did when Loki..." His voice gave and he fixed his eyes on the pond again, trying to keep himself calm.

"Don't," Coulson cautioned softly. Unwittingly he quoted Natasha, "Don't do that to yourself, Clint." First names were rarely part of their communication, but the situation warranted it. Besides, sitting together in so casual a setting without the protection of suits and armour and rules made Phil feel distinctly exposed. "Most people would have given themselves permission to fall apart after that. I wish I'd been there to see it but I know what you did. I know how hard you fought."

Clint's jaw tightened and he nodded, his gaze still cast out over the lake, forearms propped on his knees and hands clasped together. The ducks had moved on, lured by someone else with food to offer. He glanced back at Phil. "Wish you had been around then. After, at least. It... it was pretty rough," he admitted. He remembered sitting in the shawarma cafe after everyone but Nat had left. He'd had his meltdown then, curling up in a whimpering, pathetic ball against a pile of rubble just inside the door. He hadn't really cried, but he hadn't not cried, either. Just dry, strange sobs as Nat tried to get him to say something, tell her how she could help. He'd thought he'd lost one of his closest friends, knew he'd killed an untold number of agents. His mind snapping back to the moment he was in, Clint realized his hands were shaking a little bit, and he squeezed them together more tightly, hoping Coulson hadn't noticed.

Coulson wasn't aware his hands were moving until he saw them closing around Clint's. The man's fingers trembled against his, and Phil hated to see the horror in Clint's eyes. He hated that Clint even remembered the whole thing. "I would've given anything to be there with you." He'd tried to hold on. He supposed maybe he had, though Phil remembered so clearly the sensation of letting go and letting the darkness close in that sometimes he was amazed when he woke up and opened his eyes in the morning. "I'm glad I'm here now."

The touch, completely unexpected, had made Clint jump. His gaze drifted to Coulson, and he felt the briefest impulse to lean against Coulson. Clint pressed his lips together, trying to get a grip. "Me too," he rasped out. He stared hard at the other man, trying to reaffirm to himself that Coulson was real, was right there with him. "I thought... back at the Fridge... I thought Loki was going to kill you again. I saw the security videos of when he..." Clint's voice cracked, and he took a deep breath. "I could see it happening all over again, and even being there, I didn't think there was any chance I'd stop him."

Coulson closed his eyes against the rush of memories. Fury had consented after much harassing to let him see the footage. He'd felt sick. He'd also felt more sure than ever that something more than miracle surgery had happened to him. Coulson realized he was still clutching Clint's hands, the grip almost desperate as his own fears were woken. He wanted to let go, to apologize, but he couldn't make his fingers uncurl. "I'm sorry." It was a stupid thing to say. He hadn't meant to get killed, and he hadn't meant to put himself in danger. It was just the only thing he could think to say.

Clint seemed to register at almost the same time that Coulson's hands were still clamped around his, and he could definitely feel the tension in them. "Hey, easy," he soothed, tugging one hand free to place on his handler's shoulder. "Nothing to apologize for. You did something that was fucking ballsy, a lot crazy... but nothing wrong." Clint had remembered the sick feeling he'd gotten watching the video during the debriefing. Coulson's stoic, fearless eyes. His confidence in spite of facing down a fucking god, for crying out loud. And then that moment when Coulson's eyes had gone wide, the vicious spear protruding from the man's chest. The archer had screamed in protest, even knowing the video was hours old. Nat and Fury grabbed him and shaken him back to reality. Looking at Coulson now, alive and whole and healthy in spite of recent bumps and bruises, Clint wanted to beg the man to never go on another mission ever again. Knowing that wouldn't work, the archer slowly let go of Coulson's hands and squeezed his shoulder one more time. "You did what you would've expected me or anyone else to do, and we're lucky enough that you somehow pulled through it all."

Coulson was glad Clint had the strength to let go like should have already. He gave a shake of his head, not a negation, exactly, but a way of giving himself a moment to get steady. He took a few slow breaths and finally managed, "Yeah. Lucky." He felt lucky to be alive, but he wasn't sure how far that feeling went. It didn't feel right sometimes. The spell cast by the place had been broken. "We should head back. Check and see if Tony and Bruce have found anything." Before they faced Loki again, he wanted Natasha fighting with them. "We're going to fix this, and we're going to beat Loki with Thor's help or without it."

Clint looked at the lake one last time. The clouds seemed darker, the water less soothing, the whole scene less vibrant. The archer knew it was his imagination. He frowned faintly. They'd been enjoying themselves. //Reality rears its ugly head,// he thought, reminding himself that he'd chosen his life with SHIELD, and that he had friends and teammates that needed him as much as he needed them. //Guess it could be a way worse reality.// He glanced at Coulson as he stood effortlessly, holding a hand out. "C'mon. Let's go unfuck this mess," he said decisively, feeling more himself. "Then I'm coming back here and feeding some goddamn ducks."

Coulson smiled despite himself as he took Clint's hand and let the man haul him upward. "That sounds like a solid plan." When they got back, Phil considered changing and then decided against it. He was exhausted, drained after his conversation with Clint. For once the people around him could forgive a lack of professional dress. If they ended up going somewhere other than the lab, then he could see about a change. They got Clint cuffed up on the way in, Phil feeling even worse than he had before about the situation, and they headed into the lab.

Simmons looked up at him as if she didn't recognize him in the slightest. "Er, Agent Coulson, sir, it... you..." She blinked as if utterly uncertain what to say. 

"Nice to see you too. Stark, what's the story?"

Tony, having abandoned his wheelchair not long after Steve had left, was leaning against a table a little more heavily than he should have needed to. While he definitely hadn't torn anything open, he'd definitely proven to himself that he wasn't ready to tear around the lab on foot. "Well," he said, swallowing a couple of pain pills sans water, "the hammer's freaky."

Bruce held up his hands defensively when Coulson gave him an accusing look at the sight of Stark out of his chair. "Unless you want the big guy to babysit him, you should just be glad that he hasn't actually torn anything," he pointed out, then glared at Tony and his useless explanation. "You're not going to like this." He tapped a few buttons on a floating interface, bringing up a 3D projection of the hammer into the room. "We had to use some other no-touchy tech - specifically, one of the Hydra weapons - to even extract anything from this... whatever it is." The hammer was replaced by a schematic of a modified Hydra weapon. "Good news is, we can use this to fix our friends."|

"Bad news is, we're not doing it, because it's out of the question," Tony snapped.

Clint raised an eyebrow. "Since when did you make something and not want to try it? Especially if it's likely to backfire and kill you."

Tony opened his mouth for a retort, but Bruce's soft voice interjected, "It uses life force."

Clint stared dubiously. "I don't think that's a real science thing."

"Best description I can come up with. It actually drains cellular energy. Normal person, it'd kill them with one or two trigger squeezes," Bruce explained, gesturing to the image floating in the room as Tony wrapped his arms around himself and sagged back into his wheelchair. "If I try it, the big guy turns up, makes a mess." He glanced at Tony. "We tried. With controls," he added before Coulson could protest.

The archer didn't have to think too hard to put two-and-two together. "Logan's compromised, and Steve's the only one who can withstand it."

"Which is why we're going to keep working until we find something that doesn't risk killing a team member," Tony growled from his wheelchair.

Coulson didn't much like that thought either. Maybe Steve could withstand it. Maybe he could wield the weapon without losing any life force or going crazy - he probably had a better chance with both options than any of the rest of them had - but maybe he couldn't. "Have you told Captain Rogers?"

Always one for dramatic timing, Steve chose that moment to step into the room. His step faltered at the grim looks on everyone's faces and the sound of his name. "Uh, told me what exactly?" Neither of the young SHIELD scientists would so much as look at him. They were stoically pretending to work on something at the back of the room. He was moderately certain the computer they were pretending to work on wasn't even turned on. "Okay, somebody's going to need to fill me in because I apparently missed something." He spotted the new schematic floating in the air and perked up a bit. "Is this a new design? Something to help us use the hammer?"

"You could say - "

Tony immediately cut Bruce off. "Nothing workable," he snapped, managing to run over Bruce's foot with his wheelchair. The other scientist hopped off, cursing and doing deep breathing exercises.

"Are you nuts?" Clint asked, eyes suddenly riveted on Bruce, expecting an explosion of green muscle and rage at any second. //And me in handcuffs. Getting real tired of the David and Goliath act.//

"I'm... fine," Bruce grated out in a voice slightly deeper than normal as he slowly straightened up, looking reasonably calm.

Deciding that further theatrics might get them all killed, Clint spoke up quickly, "They've modified a Hydra gun to shoot evil Mjolnir energy, but it sucks the life out of anyone who uses it, and you're the only not-crazy person who might be able to take enough of that to cure Nat, Logan, and Summers."

Steve sucked in a quick breath, "Oh." His gaze locked on Tony's, but he couldn't manage any righteous anger. Yes, Tony was willing to let three teammates suffer, let them spend their lives in jail, but after that morning, Steve understood why. It was still selfish, but it also made him want to kiss the man senseless in front of everyone. "You know I have to do it, right?" He ignored everyone else in the room and watched only Tony.

Tony opened his mouth to argue and found himself speechless. He surged up from the chair faster - according to his zinging stitches - than he should have, tangling a hand in Steve's shirt and pressing their mouths together.

Clint huffed, tearing his eyes away from the two and grumbling that they could stand to get a room. //Mostly so I don't wind up standing here with a raging boner. Awkward.//

Holding himself up against his lover, Tony looked up at him pleadingly. "Just gimme a couple more days? Please, baby," he whispered, looking more scared than he had in a long time.

"Tony," Bruce chimed in, voice forceful but gentle, "you and I both know that that gun isn't going to hold together for a couple of days, and I don't think the Council's gonna let Fury have another one. If there are any others anymore. This is our option. It’s a shit option, but it’s our option."

There were tears in Steve's eyes as he held Tony close. "Bruce is right." It killed him to think of hurting Tony or leaving him behind. "If there's a chance that this works, we have to take it. If it's too bad, I can stop and you can keep working." He glanced up to see a look of blatant skepticism on Fitz's face.

Coulson found himself looking down, unable to watch the intimacy in front of him. It had nothing to do with the kissing and everything to do with the quiver in Tony's voice and the way the two men looked at each other. He wondered why it has taken them so long to notice that they fit together so well it was a little disturbing.

"I'll be fine, Tony. I promise. I'm not leaving you." Steve kissed the man gently. "I love you... and you're going to teach me how to do this so I can help our friends, okay?"

Tony set his jaw, swallowed hard and nodded. He knew Steve was right. "Alright," he said, sounding defeated and numb. He didn't cry. It wasn't something he did, but there was plenty of fear and hurt and worry in his eyes. "Alright, yeah." He drew back, still hanging onto Steve as well as he could without hindering the man's movements. He led the man to a table and yanked the cloth off an odd shape, revealing the gun.

Clint tensed at the sight of it. It made him itch to take the weapon, but fear held him back more than the cuffs.

Tony, careful not to touch the gun, pointed out each and every feature, carefully explaining how to use it with a patience he didn't usually have. If it had been anyone else, he'd have made Bruce do it, but it was Steve, and Tony was going to make damn sure that the blonde understood everything. "You don't need full power to do what needs to be done. Just about fifty percent. Just a few seconds. We don’t-" Tony's voice shook and faded into an odd half-sigh, half-whimper as he tried to get control of his emotions. "We don't know what, exactly, it'll do to you." He glanced up, looking lost. "Or how much you'll be able to take."

Steve's jaw clenched, and he nodded. He'd known that already from the look on Bruce's face, from the way Fitz-Simmons wouldn't meet his eye, from the catch in Tony's voice. "Enough," Steve assured firmly. He'd had a hand on the other man the whole time, unable to break contact even if it was a bit awkward. "I can take whatever I have to. We'll get everybody back, and I'll be fine." He slid his hand behind Tony's head and kissed him gently. No one watching mattered. He knew most of them would look away and try to give them the only kind of privacy they could afford for the moment.

Coulson discreetly sent word to have medical on hand at the cells. If Steve didn't handle it as well as he thought he might, Coulson wasn't taking chances that any intervention would be too late. 

"Natasha first," Steve said, still pressed in close to Tony, still holding him.

Bruce frowned. "Logan can-"

"If I can only do this once, I'm not leaving Natasha in pain. She also seems to be the least worse off. Might take less to pull her out." He knew it wasn't the most practical solution, but he couldn't let someone who'd fought beside him so many times suffer if he could stop it. "Then Logan." Then, if he couldn't take anymore, Logan could help Scott. "It'll be fine," he assured Tony before stealing another kiss. "I love you."

"Love you, too," Tony murmured, his voice shaking. It still scared the shit out of him to say it, but he'd be damned if he was going to let Steve go do something that might actually kill him outright without saying it. He stole another kiss from the blonde, then let his lover help him back to his wheelchair.

Clint was pretty sure he was going insane, pretty sure the hammer had done something to him. Tony Stark was telling someone he had feelings for them, and moreover looked a bit like he wanted to cry as he settled defeatedly into his wheelchair. Not to mention, Clint still really wanted to try out the gun, and he knew that wasn't a normal urge, considering what it would do to him. "Coulson," he said, staring hard at the gun and gulping. "If I reach for that thing, hit me on the head with something big. Like Bruce." He edged a little closer to his handler as if doing so might protect him from the impulses.

Tony barely paid the two any attention. He was still fixated on Steve. "I'm going with you." When Steve looked ready to protest, Tony gave him a stone cold stare of determination, one he rarely wore and even more rarely pointed at anyone he didn't hate. "If you're about to shuffle yourself off this mortal coil, I'm going to be there with you for every last second you're still with us." He wheeled himself to the door. "Coulson, bring your crazy sniper. We might need backup if things go weird. Let's go."

Clint looked at Coulson, wondering what sort of backup he'd be if his hands were bound, but didn't argue. Things were too surreal. Talking might make it worse.

 

It felt like they were walking the green mile, and Coulson didn't care for it. He'd sworn immediately to Clint that he wouldn't let the man touch the gun, and he wouldn't. He just didn't want Steve touching it either. He noticed that Bruce hung back in the lab, which was probably for the best. The Hulk tended to gravitate toward Tony, and considering there was very little chance of Tony not getting upset, it would be at best a volatile situation. There were all silent on the walk because no one knew what to say. Coulson watched Steve's hand gravitate to Tony's shoulder, holding on while he still could, and his heart broke for the two of them. Even if everything was absolutely, completely fine, facing something like that, facing the thought of losing someone like that- He cut off the thought with a shudder. He wished he'd put on a suit. It would have felt less vulnerable. Standing there in his glasses and t-shirt with a bound Clint by his side, Coulson felt utterly and completely useless. 

Steve was surprised that he kept breathing through it all. The gun was heavy in his hands. It didn't radiate the same creepy power the hammer had, not precisely, but it wasn't healthy. He knew that without the warnings just from the way it felt. The weight came from something that wasn't physical mass, and he hated even touching the damn thing. He hated seeing Tony look broken and defeated before they even began because that cut deeper than anything else. They stopped as a group outside of Natasha's cell, and Steve stood by while Coulson, jolted from the stupor that seemed to have overtaken them all, hurriedly unlocked the door.

Nat looked more wary than relieved at their presence. "I'm not sure if I'm in for a reprieve or an execution at the moment, gentlemen."

Holding the gun up, Steve explained, "This will fix it. It will neutralize what Loki did to you."

She waited for the rest, and when Steve didn't offer it, both eyebrows shot up, "And?"

Coulson was the one who gave in and explained, "And it uses cellular energy to power the... the whatever the hell it does. It uses life force."

The woman drew herself up to full height and shook her head firmly. "Not doing it. I'm not without ego, but between the two of us, you're worth a lot more than I am."

"First off, you're wrong about that," Steve answered evenly. He had reluctantly let go of Tony to enter the cell and wished like hell for the warmth of the man's touch as he moved toward Natasha. "Secondly, I can survive this. If anyone can, I can."

"We don't know if anyone can."

"And we don't find out until I try."

 

Tony had to fight to keep from getting up and following Steve into the cell. He wasn't sure if the gun would work like an electrical conduit, possibly draining them both, and that held him back. More casualties was not the goal of their mission. He realized with a jolt that he almost wanted to volunteer to take Steve's place. Theatrics aside, he knew that no one, Steve least of all, would allow it. "Nat, shut up and let him help you," he finally snapped.

Clint raised an eyebrow, surprised by that. Tony was essentially offering up the person who mattered most to him for the person who mattered most to Clint. Maybe he didn't know that. But still... The archer idly wondered how many completely selfless acts the billionaire could commit in the space of a few months before reality collapsed.

Tony flicked a look at Clint that told the archer that he was well aware of what he was doing, then scowled at Nat. "Look, this isn't just about you. There are three of you who need to be fixed or spend the rest of your lives in these cells. Or just be put down. Either way, the reason we're all here is because the team's decided that that's worse than... than..." Tony clenched his jaw and swallowed hard, trying his best to keep it together. "Just shut up and take it."

 

Steve felt his heart clench at the pain in Tony's voice. He wanted to open the cell door, to go out and hold the man close. Instead he offered Natasha a faint smile. "Just hold still for me, okay?"

Though she looked no happier about the idea, Natasha held her position. Her bravery aside, it was easy to read the pain she was in by the careful way she held herself, the deep shadows under her eyes, and the uncharacteristic tremors in her hands. "Go." 

Steve nodded and lifted the gun. He breathed deeply and ran through the sequence of buttons precisely as Tony had instructed him. It wasn't a complicated process, but he did everything deliberately. If they only had one chance, he wouldn't risk doing something wrong. The jolt of power took him by surprise just the same. It felt as if the blast was moving through him more than through the gun, and Steve stumbled for a second. The beam of dark energy remained more or less level, and he watched as Natasha's eyes widened. Steve realized that he'd never really seen her surprised before. The closest thing he could think of to compare the way he felt was when he was younger and in the grip of a bad asthma attack. His chest tightened painfully, his arms shaking until he finally had to stop.

The timing was apparently okay because Natasha felt good enough to surge forward and grab Steve's arms, guiding him over to the bunk when his knees buckled. "Breathe," she instructed calmly, her eyes never leaving his. "Breathe."

He did, slow in and then out again until he felt weak but no longer in danger of actually collapsing. "I'm okay."

"You can't see yourself." Natasha didn't say anything more, though the man's pallor terrified her. They couldn't afford to lose Steve. The team needed him on a lot of levels. "You need to rest."

"I need to fix Logan." It was clear that he wouldn't be able to help them all. If Steve could stand up to one more bout with the gun, he could help Logan and then Logan would be free to save Scott from whatever spell Loki had cast. "Help me up," Steve requested quietly.

Natasha helped Steve find his feet and got the door, bumping it open with her hip. She cast a pointed glance at Coulson, who immediately texted word to the medical staff to close in and be ready with a stretcher. 

Steve's expression brightened at the sight of Tony. He still looked gray and shaky, but he smiled all the same. "See? Still here." His fingers brushed over Tony's gently as he passed with Natasha's help. 

Tony grabbed onto Steve's hand when he walked by. He didn't try to hold Steve back, just held on lightly, keeping contact as long as he could while Steve walked past him. He swallowed hard as the blonde's fingers finally slid completely away. "Love you," he murmured softly, looking frightened and small in his wheelchair.

Clint watched the whole ordeal, too horrified by the gun's effects on Steve to feel even the slightest hint of relief that Nat was better. He felt like he should say something, tell Steve to stop. He bit his tongue, though. If that was anyone's job, it was Tony's.

At the door Steve steeled himself and stepped inside. Natasha gave a quick rundown of the situation through the door to give Steve a chance to catch his breath. "It's fine," Steve assured. "Then you can help Scott." 

Logan listened intently as Natasha explained what was going on, then turned his gaze to Steve. The man looked like he was half-dead already. He wasn't going to question Steve. It wasn't his place. The man had obviously made a decision, one with serious weight behind it. It seemed condescending to ask if he was sure. Steeling himself for whatever was about to happen, Logan glanced at Nat, then looked to Steve. "Ready when you are," he finally decided.

 

"Watch what I do," Steve added quietly, his voice shaking along with the rest of his body as he fought to stay stable. "You'll need to do it for Scott." He knew there was no chance, however it went, that he'd be up to saving Scott once he had Logan back to his normal self. Steve drew in another breath and went through the sequence with the same careful deliberation, mindful that Logan was watching, mindful that Logan had a life of his own to save soon enough. He tried not to think too much about Tony sitting outside the door waiting for him. //I'm sorry, Tony.//

It wasn't so bad at first. The wave of weariness washed over him just as it had before. Steve had to brace himself against the wall to keep from sliding down to his knees, but he managed. After the first few seconds, it became clear that things weren't going well. Bracing his back tight against the wall and gritting his teeth, Steve fought to keep his arms steady, but the battle was one he began losing rather quickly. "Get... get the gun," he managed, finger falling away from the trigger as he tried to hold the weapon out toward Logan. Steve slipped into unconsciousness so quickly he wasn't entirely sure whether he managed the transfer or not.

"Med team NOW," Coulson barked into his phone, though there were already orderlies with a gurney just steps behind them in the hallway. The men lifted Steve, taking vitals. It was hard to hear it all, but they caught flashes, "thready pulse," and "shallow breathing" both making Coulson's heart sink. He put a hand on Stark's shoulder without even thinking about it, squeezing in silent support. "He's survived worse."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't panic. Well, about a long wait, anyway. I have the first five chapters of Part 2 edited already, so it should be going up in a timely fashion.

**Author's Note:**

> As I've assembled the chapters for this, I believe in the end I'll be breaking the full fic up into four parts. It's honestly huge (I was up to Chapter 60 before I started breaking it down even more), so if you enjoy this? You'll be happy to know there's more to come.
> 
> You can find Elizabeth Wilde on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/wildewhispers and on Tumblr as wildemoon.


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